


Longing

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Greg Lestrade, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Collars, Diogenes Brothel, Drunken Misunderstandings, Gags, M/M, Omorashi, Rough Sex, Sherlock's Drug Past, Soft-Top John Watson, Top Mycroft Holmes, Virgin Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Two couples find their way to finally get together after longing for each other way too long. Of course, with the Holmes brothers the way is totally different from any dating-sites' advice...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you like Top-John, please note the tagging "Soft-Top John Watson". I did that because I don't want anyone to be disappointed because he isn't the rude and sadistic top they want.

The British Government coolly leant against his black limousine. Both hands were on the handle of his favourite umbrella. Mycroft Holmes only held a minor position in the British government. He lightly smiled. Whom was he kidding? He tilted his head and kept watching DI Lestrade organising the crime scene and trying to handle his little brother.  
Sherlock Holmes had become the world’s one and only Consulting Detective. That’s what he kept telling people. Mycroft Holmes knew it better. He was only doing this to not get bored, to not use again, to not end up in a detox centre or a rehabilitation clinic or even dead in a sodding drug den. Mycroft had promised him to arrange his detox, behind severely closed doors and secured to a bed by medical cuffs. So that’s why he worked here now. And Mycroft had to admit, he was working well. The combined power of Gregory Lestrade and his brother had brought loads of criminals behind bars. He even was a bit proud of him, not that he would tell him too soon.  
He was rather pleased with Sherlock doing so far and concentrated back on Lestrade now. He liked him. He was a very attractive and good-looking man. Sherlock liked him and worked with him. It told him a lot.  
Only Mycroft didn’t want to ask Sherlock if he knew he was gay or in a relationship. That would be too much fodder to be given to Sherlock. He had to find out himself. It shouldn’t be a problem with his resources. He quietly sighed.  
And then he stared at his muscular behind when he bent down to look at something Sherlock had just pointed out. Indeed, it was a sight. He licked over his thin lips and kept staring. In fact, he kept staring until he realised, he stared right into Sherlock’s smirking face. He swallowed but managed to not turn his eyes away. They had their staring contest until Lestrade nudged Sherlock from down below and he concentrated back on him. With a swirl of his ridiculous coat he halfway covered Lestrade and it was with full purpose.  
Mycroft hated him.

***

“What’s your brother doing here, Sherlock?” Gregory asked after they had finished checking the ground for evidence. Sherlock shrugged.  
“I have absolutely no idea, Lestrade. Perhaps the victim was working for the government? If so, I will find out soon.” Greg looked over his shoulder.  
“Oh, he is gone already again. What the hell!” He shook his head. Sherlock looked at him. However, could he have managed to get into his position? He wasn’t able to see, even though it was right there. But he decided not to tell him because it promised to be very interesting and not boring.  
“Care for a pint, Sherlock?” Greg asked looking at him and Sherlock considered it. Then he decided.  
“Why not?” He smiled at Greg. He liked him. He had let him on his crime scenes and gave him cold cases when he was sick, when he was bored and when he was back from detox. Again. He never told anyone and Sherlock was very grateful for that. He knew that Mycroft hadn't forced him into helping him. He just did it. Sherlock considered him his one and only friend.  
They walked to Greg’s local and Sherlock just sat down. Greg sighed and got their drinks. He didn’t even ask him if he wanted some food. He never wanted food but now he looked rather greedily at his fish and chips. Greg just shoved the plate into the middle and made an inviting gesture.  
“Have some. You won’t finish a whole plate so just take what you want.” Sherlock looked at him from under his lashes and smiled.  
“Thanks, Lestrade.” And he stuffed three chips right into his mouth. Greg was surprised and drank. He watched him for a while. He liked him. Not like he would like a lover but like a good, a very good, friend.  
“Sherlock?” Lestrade played with his pint. Sherlock looked up.  
“Hm?” He reacted carefully because he already knew what Lestrade wanted to ask.  
“You really don’t know what your scary brother wants, do you?” Only now he looked up. Now Sherlock finally started to sip some beer.  
“No, I don’t. Sometimes he just watches me if I am behaving properly. He considers you my handler.” Sherlock snorted and so did the DI.  
“Handler! You don’t need a handler. You need someone close. A flatmate perhaps.” Sherlock became curious.  
“Please! Who could stand me?” But he grinned asking. Greg grinned back.  
“Believe me, he is out there somewhere.” They clinked glasses and forgot about it.


	2. Chapter Two

Several weeks later there was Dr John Watson. Captain John Watson. Sherlock had found himself a flatmate. Greg had been surprised when he brought him to the first crime scene but he approved of him.  
Mycroft was there, too. And since he didn’t stop the smaller man, he just accepted it. John would be Sherlock’s companion from now on. And he liked him already. He possessed some sass and talked back to Mycroft Holmes, so Sherlock had told him.  
Greg wondered if John and Sherlock were shagging already. But then he had no idea at all about Sherlock’s sexuality. He was rather sure about John’s though; even though John wasn’t.  
“What’s so funny, Detective Inspector?” Greg’s head shot up and he met the older Holmes eyes. He cleared his throat and straightened up. This man was way too close for comfort now.  
“I was just thinking …” Mycroft raised one finely sculptured brow.  
“Is that so.” Greg slanted his eyes.  
“Yes, it is. What do you want?” He asked making a step back to get some of his personal space back.  
“I was wondering what you think about the good doctor.” Mycroft looked over at both Sherlock and John. They were laughing and John was just shaking his head.  
“He is nice. He does your brother good.” This statement made Mycroft Holmes turn his head. He looked down over his long nose.  
“Why do you think so?” He curiously asked.  
“He accomplished what even I couldn’t. He reined him in. Sherlock’s behaviour has improved so much. Plus, he is much calmer these days. Can’t you see it?” Greg asked looking up at him.  
“I see too much …” The murmured words were almost lost but Greg heard them. Gently he placed his hand on the younger man’s arm.  
“Don’t worry. He is just fine.” Greg felt the tension and let go at once.  
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean …” The tension wasn’t because Mycroft didn’t like to be touched by Greg. It was because he liked it a bit too much. Quickly he held on to him, didn’t want to lose the contact.  
“No, please, Detective Inspector.” His hand was warm. Greg was bloody surprised. And he didn’t pull away. Instead he just stood there and waited what would happen next.  
Mycroft had hoped Greg would do something now. Only he didn’t. Damn it all. What was he supposed to do now? They were still touching and by now he felt his eyes burning holes into his body. He swallowed.  
“I wonder …” Mycroft started to talk but was at a loss of words. Greg looked up and raised a brow.  
“Wonder what?” He just asked feeling the waves rolling off of Mycroft Holmes, such as insecurity, self-consciousness and much more. He found him rather interesting so he decided to play nice. He smiled rather encouragingly and tilted his head.  
“Ifyouwouldliketohavedinnerwithme?” It was one long word coming out of his mouth and he expectantly looked at Greg. Greg just smiled some more.  
“Yes, I would. You only have to promise to slow down speaking because it’s too exhausting to concentrate.” Mycroft blushed a bit but it suited him.  
“My PA will text you the details, Detective Inspector.” He turned away.  
“My sergeant will confirm the appointment.” Greg replied a bit acidly. Mycroft looked back over his shoulder and for just a second he grinned.


	3. Chapter Three

Sherlock lounged in his armchair. His long legs were dangling over the armrest and his head hung upside down. He was watching John preparing their tea. He liked watching John.  
“Sherlock, stop that. It’s not good when the blood rushes into your head.” He placed the mug on the coffee-table but Sherlock didn’t get up. John took some strands of his curly hair and once pulled. The move shot directly into Sherlock’s cock and he yelped sitting up straight. Quickly he covered his groin with his dressing-gown and took his mug.  
“You are welcome.” John sounded just a little bit annoyed. Only now Sherlock looked up. What had he done now?  
“What bothers you?” He asked and sipped his tea. John leant back and looked at him.  
“What bothers me? Are you serious?” John still could get surprised.  
“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t, John.” John sat up straight clearing his throat.  
“You are a lazy sod. You don’t care about our place. You don’t clean up after yourself, you leave dirty dishes everywhere. The kitchen is a lab and the fridge is a morgue. You are playing the violin at odd hours in the night while I lie awake waiting for my shift to start. You are inconsiderate and ruthless, both towards me and yourself.” John looked dead serious. Sherlock was scared.  
“I care about you …” He only whispered the words. He didn’t know what else to say. But obviously his words did surprise John.  
“Really? Why?” John seriously looked at him and Sherlock started to knead his hands.  
“I just feel it. I don’t know how to explain this. But I don’t want you to leave. Please? I’ll try to be better. For you, John.”  
“Who said something about leaving?” John just asked. Sherlock hopefully looked up at him.  
“So, you won’t leave me?” He asked needing the confirmation coming from John.  
“No, I won’t leave you. I have just moved in, you berk.” He smiled to reassure Sherlock. But Sherlock still looked very, very worried. Only then John stood and walked over. He slowly went down on his knees and his bones cracked. Gently he placed his palms flat on Sherlock’s thighs.  
“You can stop worrying now. You won’t get rid of me too soon and not so easy. I am staying.” He seriously looked up at him.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock almost cried. John was able to see that and got up again.  
“Oh, and Sherlock, please don’t promise what you can’t keep.” Now Sherlock smiled just a little bit. He would try nonetheless.

***

John had to do some over-hours the next day due to a traffic accident. Sherlock was moving like a maniac through 221B. He cleared some places of newspapers and books. He dusted the shelves. He collected some very old dishes stuck to dark places inside his bedroom. He stood in front of their dishwasher and wondered where to switch it on. He had to google it.  
He was sweaty polishing the windows and making the beds. He even made John’s bed. He wasn’t as precise as John but he managed. So instead of being perfect he placed a piece of fancy chocolate on top of his pillow to make up for it.  
He ordered take-away and showered. He set up the table for them and waited for John to come home. He moved him onto the sofa and handed him a drink. He took his bag and jacket and stored it away. John looked around and couldn’t really believe his eyes.  
“You cleaned and hoovered …” He looked up at him and sipped his drink. Sherlock proudly nodded.  
“I also ordered take-away and made our table look nice. See?” John looked and was happy. He tried to ignore the noises coming out of the dishwasher. He was able to imagine how Sherlock had stuffed the thing to the brim and probably also with things that didn’t belong in there. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he praised him some more.  
“You have done so well. You didn’t have to, you know? I won’t leave you because of some dust or whatnot. I like it here, with you. Really, I do.” Sherlock looked proud.  
“But you like it? What I have done?” He asked and spread out his arms. John warmly smiled.  
“God, yes, I do. It’s great. It feels so good. I am glad I can live here with you. I gladly accept all your oddities because it makes me feel alive.”  
“Oddities?” Sherlock asked irritated and it made John grin. Then he just shrugged it off without answering. But Sherlock still kept going.  
“What oddities? John?” His voice became quieter and he sounded worried again. John turned his head back.  
“I told you not to worry. It’s all fine. Please believe me. I like this place and I like you. I like you just the way you are. You are special. So what?”  
“OK, I guess …” The doorbell rang and their food was delivered. Sherlock paid and placed everything in bowls and on plates. John poured the wine in the meantime. Then they sat down. John looked happy and relaxed by now.  
“You know, I have missed this.” Sherlock looked up and didn’t understand. He looked questioningly at John.  
“This?” John nodded.  
“Yes. I mean, for a very long time I haven’t had company. Nothing happened to me.”  
“Now I am happening to you. Also, a lot of oddities.” Sherlock picked through his rice and lamb.  
“And I love it! Stop picking your food and eat.” John made his voice sound stern and Sherlock’s head shot up.  
“Yes, Sir!” Sherlock mock-saluted him and John grinned. God, how Sherlock liked this voice. Again, it had shot straight south. Happily, he sat at the table. He would just have to sit a while longer.  
After dinner they sat on the sofa and finished their wine. Sherlock hung low and lounged like a big cat or so John thought. Suddenly he turned his head and their eyes met.  
“You know, I am glad, too. I am very glad that you are here.” Sherlock said unexpectedly and it surprised John.  
“If I am being too perfect and complain too much just kick my behind.” John said grinning and it made Sherlock blush.  
“I don’t want to hurt you, John. Normally, when you complain, you have a very good reason.”  
“Such as setting the kitchen on fire or using the tub for experiments.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes. And I said sorry several times already.” John quietly laughed.  
“I know and it’s duly noted.” Sherlock finally sat up straight and then stood.  
“I will retire now. I had a very nice evening. Thank you for your understanding.” John looked up and met his eyes.  
“No, I am thanking you. You ordered food and made our flat a proper place again. I liked that.” Both men smiled and Sherlock felt very good. John watched him disappearing into the bath and stood, too. He put away their dishes and checked on the dishwasher now that Sherlock was gone. Of course, he had stuffed it to the brim but it wasn’t broken and also the plates and mugs were just fine. Surprisingly everything was clean, too. It smelled weird though, not like their usual cleaning stuff.  
He heard Sherlock climb into his bed which was always accompanied by lots of rustling with the sheets and turning around groaning and sighing. John shook his head smiling and brushed his teeth. He walked upstairs all tired now and then stopped dead finding the chocolate on his pillow. He sat down and took it. Then he slowly took off the paper and sucked it. It was expensive chocolate and he loved it. He devoured the piece very slowly and enjoyed every second. He went to bed a very happy man.


	4. Chapter Four

Greg in fact did receive a text from Mycroft Holmes regarding their dinner.

_“I suggest my club for dinner. How do you prefer your steak?”  
MH_

Greg raised his brows. How did he know he liked steak best? He leant back into his chair and started to type a reply.

_“Bloody.”  
GL_

He hit “send” and grinned. He slowly turned around on his chair waiting for Mycroft’s reply. He snatched his phone when it dinged.

_“It suits you. Dinner at the Diogenes Club this Friday at 7 pm sharp. Suit up, Detective Inspector.”  
MH_

Greg wondered what that meant. He didn’t own a tuxedo. And he typed just that.

_“I have to borrow a tuxedo then.”  
GL_

Mycroft sat inside his secret office in Whitehall and held his mobile while the prime minister was on hold. He smirked typing his reply.

_“Don’t over-exaggerate. Dress trousers and button-down will do. No sneakers though. Oh, and mind the not-talking-rule.”  
MH_

Greg’s eyes widened. He would have to google that bloody club. He actually wanted to have a good time with Mycroft Holmes and not sit stiffly in some leather armchair being served by Victorian staff.

_“That will be hardship.”  
GL_

Mycroft grinned some more. The prime minister was still on hold.

_“The staff is used to handle visitors. You’ll do just fine.”  
MH_

Greg wanted to enjoy his dinner-date. He would play along and do so very nicely.

_“I know how to behave. See you on Friday!”  
GL_

_“I could always be of assistance. See you!”  
MH_

Greg stared at his display and tried to interpret the last text. He knew what it would have meant if he had sent it. But what about Mycroft Holmes, brother of Sherlock Holmes and a posh civil servant from Whitehall? He licked over his lip and leant back again. He will probably be surprised.

***

John slept through the whole night without any nightmare. When he woke the next morning, he was rather surprised about that but then he thought it must have been Sherlock’s magic from yesterday. He slowly sat up and listened into the flat. It was quiet so Sherlock wasn’t up yet.  
John went through his bathroom-routine and walked into the kitchen only clad in comfy clothes and socks. He rubbed over his eyes and brewed coffee. The moment it was done there was Sherlock calling out:  
“Milk, two sugars, please!” John shook his head and grinned. Then he prepared his Majesty’s coffee the way he liked it. He opened the door to his bedroom after having knocked and found him sitting up against the headrest. He expectantly looked at him.  
“You have been ringing, Sir?” John said and handed over his mug. Sherlock smiled.  
“Thank you. This is nice.” John nodded and wanted to leave. But Sherlock stopped him again.  
“Will you make pancakes for breakfast?” He asked.  
“If you promise to eat them, I will do just so.” Sherlock nodded.  
“I’ll be right out.” John waved at him.  
“No rush. I need to prepare everything. Just drink your coffee and wake up properly so you won’t be cranky.” And he left. Sherlock wondered when he had been cranky. What did cranky mean anyway?  
He finished his coffee and had a quick wash. Then he joined John in the kitchen. He leant against the counter. Suddenly John’s mobile dinged.  
“I’ll get it.” Sherlock wasn’t polite; he just wanted to know who texted his flatmate. Was that him being jealous? He wondered and had a look.  
“It’s from Lestrade. Why does he text you?” Sherlock asked placing the mobile on the counter. John wiped his hands clean.  
“How the hell should I know before even having read his text?” John replied and then read.

_“What do you know about the Diogenes Club? Please ask Sherlock! It’s important.”  
GL_

“He wants to know about some Diogenes Club. What’s that?” Sherlock choked on his coffee.  
“What? Lestrade asks?” Sherlock coughed and his eyes watered. John handed over a paper-towel.  
“Yes, he does. So, what do you know? What is this about?” Sherlock lightly blushed.  
“The Diogenes is an old club back from the Victorian time. My brother is a member as was our father and grandfather. I was introduced, too, when I was of age. But I never wanted to set foot in there again, not in the basement I didn't.” Sherlock obviously shuddered.  
“Why? What happened there?” Sherlock sat down and seriously looked at John.  
“It’s not only a Gentlemen’s club, John. It’s a famous brothel. You can do anything you want in there. No one ever will ask you any questions. And if someone is harmed it doesn’t matter. You are allowed to do anything.” John stared at him.  
“And your brother has a membership-card.” Sherlock wondered why John wasn’t shocked about the fact that the club was a hardcore brothel. Instead he asked after the membership of his fat older brother.  
“John, call Lestrade and ask why he wants to know. Tell him not to go there. And explain why. I can’t …” He looked stricken and John was worried. But he made the call at once.  
“John, hey, that was quick. What …” John interrupted him.  
“Greg, why are you asking about that place?” His eyes were locked with Sherlock’s.  
“Mycroft Holmes invited me for dinner this Friday. Why are you asking? You sound concerned. What do you know?”  
“I have put you on speaker, Greg. Sherlock is with me. He told me to call you.” Sherlock came closer.  
“Lestrade, don’t go there.” He said no more.  
“But why? I …” Suddenly Sherlock sobbed.  
“I just can’t, I am sorry.” He fled into his bedroom.  
“Listen, Greg. I will call you back as soon as possible. But I need to look after Sherlock now.” And he hung up on him. He collected a pancake and put loads of cream with bits of chocolate on it. Then he just entered his room.  
Sherlock sat huddled against the headrest on a heap of pillows and beneath two blankets. He was still cold; John could see that. He sat by his side and handed over the pancake.  
“Eat this. It’s soul food.” Sherlock slowly took the pancake and ate it.  
“Now talk to me.” John took the plate and placed it on his nightstand.  
“John, it’s not easy.” He swallowed.  
“So, I can see. I would like to make it better. You trust me, don’t you?” John asked.  
“Yes, I do. You take care of me; you did from moment one. You make me tea and pancakes.” Both men smiled. Then Sherlock straightened up and held on to the hem of his blanket. He once deeply exhaled and started to speak.  
“I told you I was taken there when I was of age. Mycroft had been going there for years by then. And he liked it. He was actually happy for me. But when I watched what was happening in their rooms, I was only shocked and felt sick. It was forced sex, brutal rapes, and domination games. I had been a virgin and have been ever since. I honestly believed for a very long time that this was what meant sex.” He looked horribly pale and was close to tears.  
John carefully sat down by his side and dared to take his hand.  
“God, I am so sorry to hear that. What kind of man is your brother?” Now John looked sad, too.  
“He is actually a good man, John. He deeply cares for me. He loves me. And I will always deny that I have said so.” He smiled when John handed over a tissue.  
“Do you think that he would harm Greg?” John asked. Sherlock at once shook his head.  
“No. He never would. He likes him. He is longing for him for ages now.” Sherlock snorted.  
“Really?” John was surprised. Then he looked at his hand. Sherlock was still holding on to him.  
“Go and tell Lestrade. He should know.” He pulled his hand back and John felt bad about it. He stood and looked at him.  
“May I come back in after I have talked to him?” John asked and Sherlock’s head shot up. He looked happy.  
“Yes, please do so.” Then he pulled up the blanket and moved on his side. John left his room and phoned Greg back.  
“John, what the fuck happened?” John sighed.  
“Listen, Greg. It’s hard to explain. Just listen, please?” Lestrade exhaled.  
“OK, talk. I am listening.” And John told him everything Sherlock had just told him. After he was done it was rather quiet.  
“You have to be kidding me …” Greg breathed out the words.  
“I am afraid not, Greg. Sherlock was, is, dead serious. And he is suffering. He cried, for God’s sake. Can you imagine that?” Actually, Greg could but didn’t tell John.  
“Sherlock said not to go there but he insisted that Mycroft wouldn’t harm you. I believe it’s up to you now.” Greg sighed.  
“Well, I never was the one holding back. I will call him and let him know that I know.” John was surprised.  
“And?” John wondered.  
“I will make him come to my place.” John laughed out loud.  
“Yes, right. Good luck with that!” Greg laughed, too.  
“I’ll let you know, John. Thanks for everything!”  
“Please do so. See you!” They hung up and John shook his head. Then he brewed fresh tea and went back to Sherlock.

***

Sherlock was shocked to the bones. Why did his brother invite Lestrade into his damn club? Sherlock did very well remember everything that happened on the day he had been taken there. His father wasn’t very proud of him and Mycroft had taken care of him after he had vomited all over the place and finally blacked out.  
Now he waited for John to come back to him. He was glad he had John. John was such a caretaker. Sherlock needed that. Of course, he wouldn’t ever admit it.  
John brought fresh tea and cookies when he returned to Sherlock’s side.  
“Here, drink some more and have a cookie.” Hesitantly Sherlock started to nibble because he knew John would like to see him eat. He always insisted on consuming nutrition. He liked the tea though. John had added honey into it.  
“Thank you.” John sat down on the bed again but not too close. Sherlock wondered why not.  
“I talked to Greg. He was quite shocked. But at the end he said he would tell your brother to meet at his place.”  
“He said what? He is insane!” John shrugged it off.  
“If your brother really likes Greg, he will accept Greg’s suggestion to change the place.”  
“How well do you know Greg? I mean do you know if he, how he, …” Sherlock blushed and John had to suppress a grin.  
“No, I don’t. I never asked about this. Why would I? I am not interested in Greg or men at all.” Sherlock paled again.  
“Oh.” It just slipped out but John didn’t react.  
“Do you think Greg might like this sort of thing in bed? I mean you know him better than I do.”  
“I lived with him for a bit but he never said anything or I never noticed anything. But I was very sick back then.”  
“Anyway, he is warned now and knows what to expect or what could happen.”  
“My brother stared at Lestrade’s arse on our latest crime scene.” Sherlock suddenly said.  
“What?” John laughed out loud.  
“Yes! And he didn’t realise he was staring until our eyes met. Then I smirked at him and covered Greg with my coat.” Sherlock sounded proud.  
“You are wicked. Perhaps your brother is just lonely and has a crush on Greg?” Sherlock quietly laughed.  
“A monstrous crush.” John laughed, too.  
“Haven’t you ever had a crush on someone?” John dared to ask. Sherlock didn’t look at him but nodded.  
“Yes, I had. Have. But what I saw, I can’t get it out of my head. I always imagine ending up like that.” He shuddered again.  
“That’s not sex or love or having a crush. That’s just sick.”  
“So, you don’t do these things?” Sherlock carefully asked and now it was John’s turn to blush.  
“No, I don’t. I do it differently.”  
“How?” Sherlock asked. John cleared his throat.  
“I am not really prepared to explain the way I am having the sex to you.”  
“Why not? Normally you aren’t that shy. I mean, you have been in the army.” Sherlock didn’t really understand why John wouldn’t tell him.  
“That’s different. It feels weird to talk to you about it. You have just told me what happened to you and now you want to know details about my sex-life.” John blushed even more. Sherlock shrugged.  
“May I ask something about it? Just a few questions?” He tried again.  
“Yes, just ask.” John gave up. Plus, he was very curious by now.  
“You said you do it differently. Different how? You don’t hurt them? Or you don’t hurt them too much? Men or women?” John cleared his throat and wished he had brought tea for himself, as well.  
“OK, you asked for it. I am dominant in bed, meaning I am on top; with women anyway. But I also had men while being in the army. I was always on top. I admit I like to have them helpless beneath me. But this can happen without violence, you see?” Sherlock leant forward.  
“Are you telling me that people freely submit to you? They do what you want without being forced into it?” John nodded.  
“Yes. That doesn’t mean I don’t like to use ropes. I love ropes. But they have to like it, too. So, when you do consent, both parties have to, it’s all fine.” Sherlock stared into his by now empty mug.  
“I never even kissed anyone because I was so scared …” He swallowed and only whispered the words. John didn’t know what was expected of him.  
“But now that you know, I mean, you could …” He swallowed, too. This man was a bloody virgin, for God’s sake! How could he have missed that?  
Sherlock didn’t reply but kept looking at his long fingers. John kept going.  
“You said you have a crush on someone. Why don’t you try him? It’s a him, right?” Now Sherlock nodded.  
“I think he isn’t available.” The hem of his shirt was suddenly very fascinating.  
“You don’t know that if you don’t try, you see?” John smiled very reassuringly. Now Sherlock looked up.  
“But it might destroy something. I can’t …” He looked desperate. John still didn’t get it.  
“What harm could possible come out?” Sherlock quietly snorted.  
“Lots of. He might yell at me. Or worse, run away or …” Now John woke up.  
“Or leave you?” Their eyes met. Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, or he might leave me.” The bomb had exploded.


	5. Chapter Five

Mycroft Holmes simply gaped at his mobile. He had just talked to DI Lestrade and agreed to meet him at his place. Greg had surprised him by both suggesting the change and the knowledge of the Diogenes Club. Of course, Mycroft knew Sherlock knew everything but he never would have guessed they’d talked about it.  
Greg had mentioned being a bit shocked but hadn’t wanted to cancel their meeting. Instead they were now meeting at his place. Mycroft wondered how the food could get delivered there and still be perfect. He sighed and asked Anthea to take care of the problem.  
Suddenly it dinged again.

_“I can cook, you know? Don’t bother with anything. My place, my kitchen, my food.”  
GL_

Mycroft again was sort of speechless.

_“OK. Thank you, I guess?”  
MH_

Greg smirked but found he had done right.

***

The day came and Greg had cleaned and dusted and hoovered his flat like a maniac. He also binned loads of rubbish and stocked up his alcohol supply. At the end he was very pleased and thought about himself. He showered and afterwards had a look into the mirror. He turned his body and had a good look.  
“Not too bad …” He muttered rather pleased and posed a bit. Then he grinned, shook his head, and dressed. He ended up with a pair of jeans, bare feet, and a tight V-necked t-shirt in dark grey. Someone at work had told him it looked good and now he relied on it.  
He had prepared the food a bit in advance and would only need to cook the pasta and the cheese sauce. Everything was fresh and he would keep Mycroft busy with a good wine. He hoped for a good shag later and he had taken care of his bedroom, as well. New sheets and everything, fresh air, loads of condoms and a new tube of lube. He sighed and ruffled his hair.  
The doorbell rang and his head shot up. He checked the time. It was exactly the time. He sighed, so typical Mycroft. He went to open the door and then just gaped.  
Mycroft looked different. No three-piece-suit or umbrella. Instead a pair of black denims, ankle boots, a dark grey V-necked jumper beneath a leather jacket. His hair wasn’t as neat as usual and Greg also noticed he carried a paper bag.  
“Detective Inspector, won’t you invite me inside?” He smirked. Greg blushed and straightened up.  
“Of course, please do come in.” He made an inviting gesture and Mycroft made the step over the threshold. Greg took his jacket and hung it up.  
“I brought something to drink.” Mycroft offered the bag and Greg pulled out the mega-expensive whiskey.  
“You shouldn’t have.” Mycroft shrugged and looked at him.  
“I was told it was appropriate to bring something.” Greg smiled.  
“Would you like some?” Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, please.” Then he looked at Greg’s bare feet and cleared his throat.  
“Would you like me to take off my shoes?” He asked and Greg just shrugged.  
“Do as you please.” Mycroft considered it and then toed the boots off his feet. It felt good. He normally only did this at home without guests. He even wouldn’t have done this with Sherlock. But now it felt just fine.  
Greg handed over his tumbler and they sipped the whiskey.  
“God, this is great!” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“I am glad you like it. I wasn’t sure.” They ended in the kitchen and Mycroft leant against the counter looking curiously at the things cluttered everywhere. He deduced in seconds what would be on for dinner and licked his lips in expectation.  
“Please make yourself comfortable. I will start cooking now if you are hungry already?” He looked questioningly and Mycroft nodded.  
“Go ahead. I’d like to stay here if it doesn’t bother you.” Greg tilted his head; he was admittedly a bit surprised.  
“Sure thing. I don’t mind.” He boiled the water and fried the mushrooms. He added the cream and the cheese and noticed Mycroft moving closer. Finally, he hovered rather close by and Greg just offered a teaspoon to let him try.  
Mycroft’s tongue came out and licked the spoon clean. Something inside Greg’s pants stirred and he quickly turned away.  
“Delicious.” The comment was spoken close to his ear and he swallowed.  
“I am glad you like it.” He concentrated on stirring the sauce some more while Mycroft poured a second drink.  
Greg had no dining-table except for his place in the kitchen. At least it had two chairs. So, he had set up everything there. He had even bothered and bought a table-cloth with fitting napkins.  
“Could you get the wine, please?” He pointed in the direction of the living-room where he had placed the already opened bottle. He had asked Sherlock what to buy and it had been horribly expensive. But he had done it. He wanted it to be perfect for his guest.  
And Mycroft was impressed when bringing back the bottle and glasses. He sat down and poured the wine. Greg placed the bowls on the table and offered everything.  
“Please, go ahead.” Mycroft filled his plate halfway and Greg raised his brow. If he would start behaving like his darn brother, he’d go mad. He took some himself and watched him take the first bite. Then everything disappeared rather quickly and he took a refill. Greg was pleased. The wine seemed also OK because he drank, too.  
They finished everything and leant back in their chairs. Mycroft smiled and looked sated.  
“This was fantastic, Gregory.” His long legs were outstretched and his hands were on his stomach.  
“Coffee?” Greg offered and Mycroft nodded. Greg stood and brewed fresh coffee. Mycroft kept watching and he was extremely horny. He wanted him and his erection hurt. He wondered if Greg felt the same.  
Greg was glad he faced away from Mycroft because his erection was rather obvious or so he thought. This had been a success. He wondered if Mycroft would want more, would want him, for dessert.  
“Milk, two sugars, please.” Mycroft’s voice was close again. He stood right behind him and Greg started to sweat. He tightly grabbed the mug and turned around.  
“Here you are.” Mycroft took the mug and their fingers brushed against each other. Sparks flew and both men stared into each other’s eyes. Then Greg smiled and looked up from beneath his lashes.  
“Should we move into your living-room?” Mycroft suggested. Greg just nodded and took his coffee. They sat on the sofa.  
“Would you like to listen to some music?” Greg asked and Mycroft stared at the pile of records on the floor.  
“I believe we don’t share the same taste of music.” Greg grinned and pointed over to his guitar.  
“I could serenade you?” He leant sideways into the sofa and looked at him. Mycroft laughed. He really did.  
“You could do so many things …” He finally replied. Greg blushed.  
“Bloody hell. Is he flirting with me?” Greg wondered. After looking at each other for several minutes Mycroft took over. He took their mugs and placed them on the coffee-table.  
“I suggest getting comfy.” He moved up close and placed his palm on Greg’s neck. His long fingers moved through his hair and scratched over his nape. Greg lowered his head and sighed. This was nice.  
Then he thought he was just acting rather submissive, but now it was too late.  
So, he dared and placed his hand flat on Mycroft’s thigh. He allowed it and tilted his head up. Then he kissed him. Greg closed his eyes and his heart was beating wildly. It had been a long time.  
Mycroft knew what he wanted. He wanted Greg. He didn’t waste time and just pressed his tongue between Greg’s lips. Greg opened up and exhaled. Their grips became tighter and tighter. He moaned and Mycroft moved his palm beneath his shirt, over Greg’s stomach and up over his chest.  
Greg melted into the sofa and closed his eyes. Mycroft pulled at his collar and sucked a mark on the place where neck met shoulder. His hand moved downward again and finally ended softly on his groin. Greg tensed and opened his eyes again. He looked right into blue-grey eyes.  
“I want you.” Mycroft said no more and had stopped touching completely. Greg swallowed. He hadn’t had sex with a man for ages. And certainly not the way Mycroft liked it. He reached out and cupped his cheek.  
“I am to be handled with care.” He only whispered the words and they made Mycroft smile.  
“I know. I understood the moment you wanted to meet here.” He leant in and kissed him again.  
“I am not going to hurt you. Much.” He roughly giggled and it made Greg shiver. But it was a good shiver. He stood and held out his hand.  
“Come on then.” He pulled him into his bedroom and Mycroft closed the door. Then he watched Greg getting undressed.  
“You are so beautiful …” He openly admired him and Greg blushed again. He stood there with his raging hard-on and didn’t know what to do. He felt like back at school and he hated it. He wanted to do something and reached out for Mycroft.  
“No, you don’t!” Mycroft used his move and threw him on the bed. He jumped right after and while doing so got rid of his shirt. Greg was surprised how muscular he was. He was tall and slim but muscled. He was freckled, too, and very pale. And whatever Sherlock said he wasn’t fat.  
He grabbed his wrists and held them down and over his head. Greg tried to get free but didn’t manage.  
“Let me go!” Greg hissed. Mycroft grinned.  
“Tell me, you don’t like this and I will.” Greg pressed his lips together and Mycroft smirked.  
“I thought so.” He moved a bit and lowered his head to nibble at his jaw.  
“Remember, I won’t hurt you. Much. But I need your consent. So?” Mycroft stared into his eyes. He was so hard and aroused.  
“You wanted to meet me in your private torture chamber. How can I trust you?” Greg looked up.  
“I promise. I want you. I want you for more than one night. I also want to play. I will give you a safe-word. If you need me to stop, I will stop. Always.” Greg considered this and finally nodded. He was too far gone to send him away now. He wanted him; he wanted to be had by him.  
“OK, I consent. But no marks above the collar. No drawing blood. And no blindfold.” Mycroft raised his brows.  
“That’s it?” Mycroft asked. Greg swallowed and nodded.  
“Yes?” Mycroft smiled and looked very, very pleased.  
“Perfect! Stay!” He got up and disappeared back into the flat. Greg got up on his elbows and listened. He heard him walk through his flat and ruffle the bag he had carried the whiskey in. He returned with some rope and fabric.  
“Grab the headrest, Gregory.” He quietly ordered and Greg just did as being told. This promised to be interesting. He got tied with his arms stretched out over his head. Next, he tied his ankles so his legs were spread wide. He was completely exposed and Greg started to sweat. Only then Mycroft stood and undressed.  
He started to kiss him everywhere. Beginning from his sole, ankle and legs up to his stomach, hips, and chest he again reached his face and mouth. He left out his groin. He didn’t touch or kiss it.  
Greg tried to move his body up, buck up, but Mycroft held him down by his hips.  
“What do you want, Gregory?” He roughly asked stroking over his chest and rubbing over his nipples.  
“I want you to touch my cock, you jackass!” Greg’s eyes were dark and his forehead glistened with sweat.  
“Try again, Detective Inspector.” His hand cupped his balls now and he started to pinch the sensitive skin. Greg groaned but understood.  
“Please touch my cock?” Mycroft hummed and let go of his testicles. Instead he formed a ring with his fingers around his prick.  
“Now use it. I am touching. There you go.” Greg muttered something nasty but started to push up. The friction was hardly enough and he stopped again.  
“No, please. I meant, please fuck me. Please give me pleasure and please let me come!” Mycroft scratched his nails over his body.  
“Well, well. That does sound much better.” He took the lube and used a generous amount to slick his finger. He rubbed between his cheeks and over his hole. He massaged it and used some pressure. He at once noticed that Greg was very, very tight. He looked up at him again.  
“How long?” Greg blushed again.  
“Years.” Mycroft took off the ropes around his ankles and instead tethered him with his legs bent upwards. He also shoved a pillow under his behind.  
“This will take time.” After more than half an hour he had two fingers inside him and Greg was writhing beneath him. He was opening him up and Greg was panting already. He knew it wouldn’t be by far enough and that fucking him would hurt him. And he had promised to not hurt him. Much.  
He used three and then four fingers while Greg almost hung in the ropes. He was begging nonstop by now. Finally, Mycroft moved up beneath his legs and held his hips.  
“Look at me, Greg. Look at me.” Their eyes met and there were traces of tears on Greg’s face. Mycroft gently kissed him.  
“I will have you now. It will hurt. You are so tight. But I promise I will make it special.”  
“Just please?” He begged some more and Mycroft just coated his penis in lube. He lined up and pushed. Greg groaned and shook but didn’t stop him. When Mycroft was finally fully seated, he stopped for a moment to give Greg time to adjust. He felt him move and saw his sweaty face, his hurt expression. But then he found the perfect angle and his eyes widened. Mycroft started to move again.  
While fucking Greg into oblivion he loosened the ropes. One pull and Greg’s legs were free; the same with his arms. Greg managed to wrap his limbs around Mycroft’s body. It was a feeling Mycroft hadn’t had for ages. But now it was good. No, it was better than good. It was Gregory.  
He pulled Greg up and on his thighs. He pushed faster and harder making him yell the place down. He would be bruised but he didn’t care. This was just amazing; this was so good. He pressed down on Greg’s folded legs while Greg’s nails scratched over his back or clawed into his skin.  
Greg screamed and finally came. He came twice actually and then just slumped. Mycroft fucked him for some more minutes until he shot his load into his body. Both men groaned and Mycroft rested on top of Greg.  
“Out …” Greg roughly demanded and Mycroft rolled off of him. Greg groaned and closed his eyes.  
“Forgive me …” Mycroft whispered and moved his palm over his chest, very tenderly so. Greg opened his eyes again and turned his head so he could look at him.  
“What for? This was the best bloody sex I ever had! You are amazing! I never would have thought you so passionate, so …” Then he shrugged being at a loss of words. Mycroft just looked at him.  
“I tried to do it right. For once.” He quietly snorted and then threw his body on his back covering his eyes with his arm. Greg got up and on his elbow. He looked down trying to meet his eyes pulling his arm away from his face.  
“You have no idea how much you sound like Sherlock now …” Mycroft groaned. Greg moved his hand over his body and finally kissed his belly-button.  
“I am afraid my neighbours will complain about me …” He giggled. Mycroft removed his arm and looked at him.  
“A gag might have helped.” Greg swallowed and blushed again.  
“Maybe next time. I am willing to experiment.” Mycroft smiled and then made a move to get out of bed.  
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked and hoped he didn’t want to leave in the middle of the night. He actually hoped for another go.  
“Thirsty.” Mycroft once stretched and walked into the kitchen. He returned with the wine and a bottle of water.  
“Did you bring fags?” Greg asked hopefully but Mycroft shook his head. Greg rolled over and opened his night-stand. And right he was; there set a pack of cigarettes and also matches. He grabbed them and sat up against the headrest. Then he pulled a face. His arse was sore.  
He lit one and Mycroft snatched it from his fingers. Greg sighed and finally they were settled again.  
“This is surprisingly nice and comfy.” Mycroft suddenly said.  
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” They looked at the perfect circles Mycroft blew into the room.  
When Mycroft’s stomach rumbled, he blushed. It made Greg grin.  
“You are not fat. No matter what Sherlock says, you aren’t. And I actually had dessert prepared. Would you like some?” Mycroft turned his head and nodded.  
“What did you make?” Greg jumped out of the bed and looked down.  
“Something nasty with chocolate.” He grinned when Mycroft licked his lips and quickly followed him. Standing in the kitchen Mycroft suddenly tensed. Greg turned around and looked at him.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“We are all naked.” Greg grinned even more.  
“You are stating the obvious.” Mycroft slanted his eyes.  
“Don’t quote my brother.” They stared at each other until Greg just kissed him.  
“Cheer up and have dessert.” Mycroft relaxed and took the bowls into the bedroom. Greg followed suit after a quick stop in the bathroom.  
He climbed back into bed and Mycroft pulled him close. He had almost finished his bowl and greedily eyed Greg’s who quickly took his.  
“I like our being together.” Mycroft murmured into Greg’s side.  
“So do I.” Greg replied and placed his empty bowl on the night-stand. Then he kissed him.  
“Let me make it up to you.” Mycroft said and moved under the blanket.  
“What?” Greg didn’t know how to react when hot lips engulfed his sensitive cock. But it felt very smooth and he didn’t complain.  
“Fuck! Oh God! You are the devil!” Greg groaned and couldn’t but push up and deep into Mycroft who took it. He sucked his head and licked him all over. His fingers were on his balls and behind and massaged the sensitive places.  
Greg came again after ten minutes and looked at him when he came back out from under the blanket.  
“That was amazing …” Mycroft looked smug.  
“It was, wasn’t it? I haven’t done it for a long time.” Now he looked thoughtful.  
“I am sorry but you can’t stick your cock back into me …” Mycroft grinned.  
“I do know that. But I could use you in another way.” He pulled Greg against his chest and just started to rut against his arse. Greg was helpless and he yelped feeling what he was doing. His arms were pressed against his body and Mycroft’s teeth were lodged into his shoulder. He shook. The image he had of himself was so extreme, he tightly shut his eyes.  
Mycroft came all over his behind and then smeared his cum between his cheeks. Right then it hit Greg. Mycroft hadn’t used a condom.  
“You don’t have to worry. I am clean and so are you. We are both regularly checked through. We don’t need any condoms.” Greg relaxed again.  
“You are right, of course.” Mycroft nuzzled at Greg’s neck and shoved his nose through his hair. Greg stretched his neck and groaned. This felt so primal, as if he would scent him. But he liked it, he had liked this, he liked him.  
“You like this, don’t you?” Mycroft suddenly asked quite unexpectedly.  
“Yes, I do. Why do you have to ask? It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Greg sleepily opened his eyes and smiled.  
“It is, very much so. But it is also unexpected. Normally I never had …” Mycroft was at a loss of words.  
“This is different, us is.” Greg just said and Mycroft looked at him.  
“You see, normally you don’t date anyone you like. Normally you hire someone to have the sex with. Am I right?” Mycroft curtly nodded.  
“So, they leave when you are done. You don’t cuddle with whores.” Mycroft snorted and closed his eyes again.  
“I on the other hand like to cuddle and to be cuddled. I also liked what you dished up tonight. I like you being here with me. And I’d like you to stay overnight.” Greg looked into his eyes.  
Mycroft’s eyes were open wide and he just stared at Greg.  
“I’d like to stay.” He couldn’t say more and he buried his face into the crook of Greg’s neck who just held him.


	6. Chapter Six

John simply stared at Sherlock. Had he just admitted he had a crush on him? On plain John Watson? He swallowed.  
Sherlock still fiddled with the hem of his shirt and played with his fingers. He wouldn’t look up.  
“Look at me, please?” John quietly asked and reached out for him. Sherlock tensed, but after such an explosion John didn’t stop. He took his hand between his and gently moved his thumb over his pale skin. It made Sherlock look up.  
“John, I understand when you are too shocked to do anything now. But what you said about how you do it. I need you to explain everything very thorough. I can’t trust you, if I don’t understand the process.” John closed his eyes.  
“Process? There is no process, Sherlock. God, what had been done to you? I could kill him …” He shook his head.  
“Don’t torment yourself. Just talk to me. It’s a simple enough request and nothing to be ashamed about.”  
“OK then. I will do it. For you. Anything for you, so you understand. If you don’t, please do ask. I have never had such a talk, so please forgive me, if I am a bit slow.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I am used to that, John.”  
So, first of all John left the bed and pulled him back into the living-room. He brewed fresh tea and brought cookies, too. Then he settled down and focused on Sherlock who expectantly looked at him. He cleared his throat.  
“You were right. Normally I am not that shy. I have been in the army and I have seen and done a lot. Plus, it is you I am talking to and I trust you with my life. So, if you need me to stop, just interrupt, always ask if you need to ask and just do whatever you need to do.”  
“Yes, John.” John looked serious.  
“And don’t yes me.” Sherlock smiled and took a cookie. He settled into the back of their sofa.  
“I like my partners helpless. I like using ropes and other bondage material on them. I use gags, blindfolds, canes, floggers, or brushes. I hang them from the ceiling and I do scenes in clubs. I like all that, but I don’t have to do it. If I love someone, I need them to consent. So, if there is something, they don’t like I won’t do it.” He sipped his tea giving Sherlock the chance to say something but he didn’t.  
“I never hurt them on purpose, not much anyway. There might be bruises and bite-marks as well as welts. There even might be blood but completely unwanted. I would never want a tattoo or brand or do that to someone. But for instance, I like edging. It means I will make them helpless, unable to move and then keep them on the brink of orgasm for a very long time. They cry and beg but I don’t care until the very end. And it will be the best ever happening to them.” He looked at Sherlock again whose cheekbones were flushed red and whose forehead was glistening with sweat. He had pulled a pillow over his lap. John did not grin.  
“I have a lot of toys, gags and blindfolds, masks and collars. Cages and rings, cuffs both metal and leather. I will use everything on them, but it won’t ever be used on me. I am on top and I make the rules. Obey or suffer the consequences. I expect them to submit, eventually.” He finished his tea and took a cookie now, too.  
“The most important thing is, I would never do anything without consent, without permission. I will need to know what they like and want or dream of. I will give them a safe-word and always listen to it. I will always stop if being asked to. Always.”  
Sherlock stared out of wide eyes. His mug was empty and there were crumbles on his lips. John slowly leant forward and used his thumb to wipe them off his face. He didn’t move or shied away. John stayed close to him and kept looking.  
“I feel hot …” Sherlock said after a few minutes of silence. He pulled the pillow away.  
“Just look what happened to me, what you did …” He helplessly pointed at his groin where his arousal clearly showed.  
“Are you scared?” John asked and Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, I don’t know what to do.” His skin felt cold.  
“What do you need me to do?” Sherlock swallowed but considered the question.  
“I want you close. I want you to show me how it works without pain and humiliation. Please?” John smiled.  
“May I hold you and kiss you?” Sherlock considered the question and finally nodded.  
“Yes …” He had been longing for this even though he had been scared to hell and back.  
He stared at John like a frightened animal blinded by the headlights. John moved very slowly and gently touched him pulling him in. He moved his fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. Sherlock sighed and John kissed him.  
At first, he only used his lips. Lips on lips. He moved them over Sherlock’s and pressed little kisses everywhere. He felt him loose some tension. He also kept ruffling his hair, feeling the structure, even smelled it. God, for how long had he wanted to do this.  
After a few minutes he dared and licked the inside of Sherlock’s lip. Sherlock let him. The only reaction was a little noise but it sounded OK. His grip became tight for a second but then he let go again. And a minute later their tongues were moving in unison. Sherlock picked up on John’s moves and he was a quick learner. He also seemed to like it. The noises he made were getting increasingly ecstatic.  
Soon enough John sucked his tongue and lips. He even dared and gently bit down. Now Sherlock openly groaned and panted into his mouth. A few minutes later John let go and Sherlock fell back. Out of hooded eyes he looked at John.  
“This is so much better than my dreams were …” John raised a brow.  
“You dreamed about us?” Sherlock blushed and nodded.  
“Yes, for a long time. I always dreamed, it could be good, but then the old pictures overrode my dreams.”  
“Do you trust me with overriding the old pictures?” John asked leaning in again.  
“I guess so. Just do it slowly. Be gentle with me …” This coming from Sherlock was something John couldn’t almost apprehend.  
“Promise …” John put a length of Sherlock’s hair behind his ear.  
“I need the loo.” Suddenly Sherlock stood and rushed away. A minute later John heard the toilet flush and wondered where that came from. Was he feeling unwell? Or did he have too much tea? Should he ask?  
When Sherlock returned and John turned his head to look at him, he realised it was dark outside. The only light came from the streetlamps outside. He stood and walked over to their fire-place. He built a fire being watched by Sherlock. He stood and his knees cracked.  
“Will you be cooking dinner tonight?” Sherlock asked and John was surprised.  
“Don’t tell me you are hungry? Really?” Sherlock shrugged.  
“Everything tired me out. Now that I am able to concentrate again, I feel the need to eat. Plus, I am not on a case.”  
“Then I shall be feeding you quickly before it’s too late.” John moved into the kitchen and checked their supplies. Sherlock followed him slowly and watched him.  
“You could help, you know?” John spoke over his shoulder.  
“I suppose I could.” He stepped up and John handed over a wooden board, a knife, and the mushrooms. He looked at him and John sighed.  
“I have washed them already. Please cut off part of the bottom and peel off the skin. Then just chop it into thin slices for the risotto.” Sherlock started to work. John watched him for a minute and it was if he was watching a complicated experiment of Sherlock. John wondered if he ever wanted to be a cook. He was a bloody artist with his hands.  
John collected the other things such as chicken, martini, and some vegetables he had in the freezer. He got the large pan and heated some butter. Sherlock held up the mushrooms for inspection.  
“Like this?” John nodded.  
“Yes, very precise. Thank you. Now put it in there and keep stirring. I need the loo now, too.” He handed him the wooden spoon and left for the bath. He was able to hear him whistle and when he came back out the radio was on and he was dancing on the spot. John watched him for a bit. He looked good and John was surprised he was doing this.  
Slowly he approached him again.  
“Are you happy?” He asked and dared placing his arm around his waist. Sherlock carefully pecked a kiss on top of John’s head.  
“Very much so.” He went on with the stirring but asked a question, too.  
“What about you? I guess you liked me for a long time. Why did you never approach?”  
“Because I sensed there was something wrong. You weren’t flirting back even though you were jealous sometimes. You know, I always wanted to touch your hair.” At once Sherlock’s hand reached up and touched his head.  
“Why would you want that?” He looked rather amused.  
“It’s very sexy, your hair is.”  
“Is that what they call a fetish?” John blushed; he really did. Then he shrugged.  
“Sort of? I guess, yes.”  
“I like your army cargos and when you are showing your dog-tags.” Sherlock blurted it out. Now John was surprised.  
“Really?” They smiled while Sherlock kept stirring like a robot.  
“Let’s add the booze.” John finally said and pointed towards the pan. Sherlock added a decent amount and then had a gulp. And then another. John laughed and was given the bottle.  
“I like the new us.” John said smiling all over his face.  
“Grammar, John.” Sherlock chided.  
“Never mind.” John kept smiling and started to set up the table. He got glasses for the wine and brought the bottle of martini over, too. He had to take it from Sherlock though who was drinking directly from the bottle again.  
“You are a very good cook, John.” Sherlock praised him during dinner.  
“What do you want?” John just asked and Sherlock felt caught.  
“You. I want you.” He finally admitted it and furiously blushed. John just stared at him until Sherlock cast his eyes. He also picked the lamb out of the rice and sucked on it. John knew he always did that when being upset with something and right before he stored it away inside some far-off room inside his mind palace.  
“We shouldn’t rush into this; even though I admittedly want nothing more than you in my bed. But I am too scared to hurt you, it can’t be.”  
“I only need your touches. I can wait for the rest. I have waited for so long. Just stay with me, hold me, that’s enough. But if you don’t …”  
“No, no, no. Sherlock, just no. That’s all fine. I thought, you know …” Sherlock looked up again.  
“No, that will need time. You are invited to stay with me in my pompous bed, if you like?” He smiled and John grinned.  
“I’d very much like that. I am not yet tired though.” John looked a bit excited now.  
“No, me neither. We could watch one of your ridiculous films?” Sherlock suggested.  
“Ridiculous? For example?” John looked quite a bit shocked.  
“Well, for instance Bond, that Doctor chap in his phone box or those tedious crime series from Oxford.” Sherlock looked smug and John slanted his eyes.  
“Will you let me chose?” He asked and Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, but only if I can place my head on your lap while you keep holding me through the ordeal.”  
“Now it even is an ordeal? You consider it a torture?” John asked.  
“Sometimes it is.” Sherlock replied and John slanted his eyes a bit more.  
“Then perhaps you should get really comfy while being helplessly tortured.” He had some ideas.  
“Meaning?” Sherlock was curious and sat up straight. John sipped a bit of martini.  
“I could not only hold you but render you helpless. You wouldn’t be able to move much, perhaps you wouldn’t even be able to speak. It’s up to you. Only you decide what you want to try. I can only promise to make it worthwhile.” Sherlock swallowed.  
“I don’t doubt that for a second.” He grabbed the bottle and took a sip.  
“So, you are suggesting to tie me up, gag me and hold me tight while you pick your most torturous film?” John grinned wildly.  
“Exactly!” Sherlock still held on to the bottle.  
“You will only hold me. You may touch me but not below the waistline.” John was still shocked about Sherlock’s experiences but he agreed.  
“Whatever you want, Sherlock.”  
“Whenever I tell you to stop or signal you to stop, you will stop promptly.” He clung to the bottle.  
“Yes, of course. I told you, promised, you already not to hurt you.” John reached for the bottle.  
“No more for you now.” Sherlock pouted.  
“If you have any doubts, I do trust you with my life, John. I really do.” John visibly relaxed.  
“I should hope so.” Then he stood and cleared the table. Sherlock watched him. It soothed him seeing John doing this.  
“You may pick your predicament while I get the supplies.” Sherlock sighed dramatically and stood. He sauntered over to John’s pile of DVD’s which sat beneath their telly. Somehow, they had ended up there and the pile had grown ever since. He went down on his knees and rummaged through them. There were new ones he hadn’t seen yet. There was the latest Bond, too. Finally, Sherlock picked exactly that. Perhaps Bond had become better by now. He took the disc and inserted it.  
And suddenly there was John right behind him. He could feel him before he spoke. He closed his eyes and stayed where he was. Then there was John’s hand on his head.  
“You have chosen?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes.” He held up the case and John nodded being rather pleased.  
“Very good. We should start then. Remember, whenever you need me to stop or need anything, you will tell me so. Can you do that?”  
“Yes, John.” He nodded and exhaled.  
“Stand up, please.” Sherlock got up and John’s hand fell off. Instead he took Sherlock’s wrists back and slung some rope around them. He was able to feel him tense for a second or two but then he relaxed again. John moved his palm over his back to soothe him. Then he led him over to the sofa and made him sit. He knelt by his side.  
“Open your mouth, please.” Sherlock obediently did that, too, and John put some soft fabric into his mouth. Sherlock closed his eyes. He already felt his arousal and he felt the heat creeping up. It only increased when John pressed a thin scarf behind his teeth and knotted the thing behind his head.  
“You are just perfect, Sherlock.” John whispered the words and gently pecked a kiss on his ear. Sherlock’s body twitched once and he closed his eyes tight. John was surprised how responsive the man was. He was absolutely inexperienced but he seemed to enjoy it so far.  
Only then John took the remote and lowered Sherlock down on his side.  
“May I bind your legs, as well?” He met Sherlock’s most completely dilated pupils. His eyes were almost black but he nodded. John used more rope for his ankles and knees and it made Sherlock groan quietly. John was almost achingly hard but he didn’t touch himself. Instead he moved against the back of the sofa and pulled Sherlock close. His arm was over his waist and his palm was flat on his stomach. He felt muscles and body warmth. He willed his erection to go away and managed. He didn’t want it to poke into Sherlock’s behind. OK, the height difference would have made it the lower back but anyway. He started the film.

***

Several times while they were watching Sherlock let out noises. John knew by the sound of it that he was commenting or complaining. Every time he just pinched his skin and made him stop. Once he carefully checked on his front and was able to see his arousal. Now and again he kissed his neck.  
John got completely surprised when the credentials ran over the screen and Sherlock threw his slim body around so they were chest to chest.  
“What ...?” John dropped the remote and his nose bumped against Sherlock’s chest. He also felt Sherlock’s penis. Then he started to rut. John looked up. His eyes were clenched shut and he was sweating.  
“Sherlock, stop that at once.” But he didn’t. He even shook his head and loudly groaned into the fabric. John forced his body into the former position and held him down with his leg over his thigh.  
“I said stop it.” John almost hissed and Sherlock whimpered. John could feel his fingers twitch. He produced noises John loved.  
“Hush, love. You are doing so brilliantly. Come down, relax. Just give in and submit.” John whispered the words and kept holding him. He felt for his pulse and felt it slowing down bit by bit.  
“There you are. So good for me. So beautiful.” More whimpering sounds together with some sobbing. John pulled the scarf down and it hung around Sherlock’s neck. Then he carefully pulled out the fabric. It was soaked and he just dropped it. Sherlock inhaled and breathed out long and steady.  
“Talk to me, Sherlock. What do you need?”  
“I know what I said before, but now I need you to touch me. Please, John. I hurt …” John had a good look again and saw the big bulge in his pants. He wondered about his size and licked his lips.  
“It’s all fine. Relax, Sherlock. Can you do that for me?” John whispered the words roughly into Sherlock’s ear.  
“Yes, John. Just please …” And he stretched his lithe body and groaned.  
John wondered, if he should take the ropes off but Sherlock hadn’t asked for that. He only had asked for relieve. He pressed up against him and placed his hand flat on Sherlock’s stomach. He spread his fingers and started to move them. He scratched and rubbed moving south. Sherlock jerked and moaned. John became aroused quickly.  
“If you feel uncomfortable with me behind your back, you have to stop this, OK?” Sherlock only nodded.  
“Keep going, please?” He was dry-humping by now and John kissed his nape again. The scarf was still slung around his neck and it reminded John of a collar. Now that would be a lovely sight.  
John reached into his pants and for the first-time touched Sherlock intimately. Sherlock pulled up his long legs and tried to spread them but couldn’t. He groaned some more and pulled at the ropes but they were tightly bound around his limbs. John pulled at his cock and felt the wetness. Sherlock had already been leaking copious amounts of precum.  
“Does this feel good?” John moved this thumb over the head and spread the fluid all over the shaft.  
“God, yes, it does!” Sherlock was panting and chasing the pleasure. John pulled down his trousers so he could reach more skin. He at first concentrated on his penis and moved over to his balls. He cupped and weighed them; they were full to the brim. No wonder he hurt. He worked on his prick some more until he finally moved so his lips were able to touch his cock.  
Sherlock felt John’s lips closing around him and then he sucked. He wasn’t able to control his reaction; it was too much. He hadn’t come for ages; last time had been during puberty and since then he had always willed it away somehow. Until now.  
Well, the wanking incident in the pub didn't count because it was only to will it away and prevent to not come into his trousers. It hadn't been for pleasure.  
He screamed and yelled the place down until he was hoarse and empty. He hung in John’s grip who by now untied him. He also checked on his skin. It was a bit chafed because he had moved too much. It was red and sore and John didn’t like it. He slowly got up and looked at an exhausted Sherlock.  
“Stay there, please. I need to take care of your skin.” Sherlock looked very much debauched when their eyes met.  
“Huh.” No more and John was proud. No coherent speech. He had never known it was possible. He grinned and walked away to get the first-aid kit. He also brought him water. He downed it in one go and sighed.  
“That was unexpected. And amazing. You were amazing. I feel so good …” He leant deep into the sofa and smiled languidly up at John.  
“Hands up, please.” Sherlock lifted a trembling limb and John gently started to take care of him. Sherlock let him finish without complaining or annoying behaviour. But the moment the gentle touches were over he started being Sherlock again.  
“I want a drink!” He looked up at John but made puppy eyes and John just smiled and brought the bottle. He got completely surprised by Sherlock’s move afterwards who just grabbed him by the fabric of his denims and pulled him on top of him. He ended up straddling his thighs and almost sitting on his lap.  
“What you did was wonderful. But you, I mean, you haven’t, have you?” Sherlock took the bottle from John.  
“No, I haven’t. But it’s all fine. You don’t have to do anything.” Sherlock drank and handed back the martini.  
“But I want to.” His voice was deep and utterly sexy. His hands came up and he carefully placed them on John’s muscular arse. They locked eyes. John liked this a bit too much. Sherlock needed to experience so he let him do as he liked.  
John drank from the bottle while Sherlock kept touching him. His long fingers were working on his button-down right now. He pulled his shirt open and smelled his skin. His nose moved over his chest and one fingertip gently rubbed over a nipple. John leant into the touch groaning.  
“You are good at everything, aren’t you? Keep going …” The statement made Sherlock feel much better. After several minutes of serious groping the bottle was empty and both men were a bit tipsy. Sherlock was brave now and boldly kissed John using his teeth and tongue. John’s hold of Sherlock’s body became harder and tighter and Sherlock’s noises were bloody wanton.  
Sherlock was still naked around his groin and he didn’t care at all. So, John took his share and grabbed his cock. He pulled it up several times until Sherlock was a helpless mess. He made him grow and only then took his own cock in hand. He pressed them together and Sherlock stared at them. He shook and was sweaty again.  
Sherlock clawed at John’s body and wildly sucked his nipple. When he came, he bit into the place where neck met shoulder and John loudly yelled and came right after.  
Both men were covered in old and fresh cum and panting.  
“You amazing man …” John tenderly whispered and kissed Sherlock. Sherlock hummed and held him tight.  
“We need to shower or we’ll glue together.” John quietly laughed.  
“Come on then. Afterwards I think I am coming back to your invite and rest in your bed, but only if you want me to.”  
“I’d like that.” Sherlock shoved him off and raced towards the bath so he was first.  
“Oi, don’t use up all the water!” John shouted shaking his head.


	7. Chapter Seven

Greg woke because he couldn’t breathe properly. He struggled a bit and realised he was completely covered by the blanket. His face was pressed into the pillow by another body crushing over him. A very warm body as well. Mycroft’s body. He also held him by the waist and leg so Greg was barely able to move.  
He pulled the blanket down and deeply inhaled several times. He turned his head and looked at Mycroft. He was still fast asleep and didn’t move. Obviously, he felt safe here with him.  
Greg checked his watch and found it was rather late already. Actually, it was a quarter past nine. He shook his head. Well, it was the bloody weekend and if he wouldn’t go running for once it wouldn’t matter too much, he hoped. He slowly rolled out of bed to not wake Mycroft. He had a look but he didn’t even twitch.  
Naked as he was Greg didn’t bother and walked into the bath. He used the loo and brushed his teeth. He wasn’t really hungry but he needed coffee. He filled his mug and only then he got a pair of pyjamas to sit on the sofa. He slumped into the back and started to think about what had happened.  
“It’s really rather absurd. If someone would have told me I had sex with one of the Holmes brothers. I would have either killed or laughed at him. And now Mycroft bloody Holmes is still in my bed. The sex was the best I ever had. I wonder what will happen now.” He leant back against the sofa and sighed with his eyes closed.  
“Where is my coffee?” Greg dropped his mug and warm coffee spilled all over his thighs.  
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He swore and looked up. Mycroft smirked down at him clad in his dressing-gown which sat awkwardly because it was too short and too wide. But Mycroft wore it like a King would wear his cloak.  
“I wondered where you were.” He added and looked a bit confused. He looked even more than Sherlock than yesterday sometimes. And now he showed the same self-consciousness his brother showed often, too.  
“Where would I be? It’s Saturday.” Greg muttered and accusingly looked up. When he saw the hurt expression on Mycroft’s face that only showed for half a second, he paddled back again.  
“Hey, I needed the bathroom and coffee. Plus, you were choking me in your sleep.” He smiled saying so while Mycroft raised a brow.  
“I surely did no such thing.” He sounded a bit put off.  
“OK, let me rephrase. You smothered me, were all over me. It felt nice though. I liked it.” Mycroft visibly relaxed.  
“I also enjoyed staying, sleeping in your bed. I slept through the whole night.” He sounded a bit surprised.  
“And the world didn’t end.” Now Greg smirked.  
“No, it didn’t, did it?” Mycroft sighed and still greedily looked at Greg’s mug. Greg stood.  
“Would you like to have breakfast with me?” He asked and Mycroft slowly nodded.  
“Yes, I would. But you shouldn’t bother. I will order something.” He pulled his mobile from the pocket of the dressing-gown but Greg stopped him.  
“No, you won’t. I have everything here. You will survive my supplies. Come on and have a look.” Mycroft followed him into the kitchen. Greg presented his rolls, jam, chocolate, eggs, salmon, and cream cheese.  
“Will you make a pancake for me?” He asked and Greg had a flashback. Sherlock had wanted the same quite often when he was living with him while he was sick because of the drugs.  
“Sure thing. Fluffy?” Mycroft nodded.  
“Absolutely.” He sat on a chair and looked expectantly up at him. Greg pointed at the drawer.  
“You may set up the table for us, dear.” Mycroft muttered something impolite but stood again. He took plates and everything they needed and placed it on the table. He felt rather weird doing so. At home he had people doing this. Actually, at home he did nothing but work and sleep, mostly. He had a butler, a maid, cleaning staff, a driver and they all did his chores. But this was that made it feel like a home.  
God, was he becoming weak getting older? Or was it Gregory’s fault? Was it his fault? His mind wandered away without him.  
Suddenly there were arms around his slim body.  
“Hey, don’t fret. You are doing fine.” Greg kissed his cheek and let go again. Mycroft was surprised again. Everything felt surprisingly nice and good, the company, the food. The fantastic sex he had had with Gregory was a plus.  
“I am not used to this.” Mycroft moved the knife into the correct position.  
“You will get used to this. Us. Being together.” Mycroft looked up.  
“I really want to, you see? I don’t want to spoil this. And I am scared I could do exactly that.”  
“Just talk to me if something bothers you. We can solve everything together. Nothing is too ridiculous or too bad a question or remark.”  
“You sound like a therapist.” Mycroft pulled a face.  
“I am a police-officer with people I have to look after. I am responsible for my department. So of course, I am some sort of a therapist.” Greg shrugged and looked at him.  
“You have dealt with my darling little brother. You know about the job.” Greg nodded.  
“I sure do.” Then he took his hand and pulled him close.  
“Let’s try to do this.” Mycroft looked into his eyes and drowned in chocolate.  
“No, Gregory. Let’s do this.”

***

They had a relaxing breakfast and got dressed later. Mycroft actually had no idea what to do now. Normally he would have spent the day working. Greg of course showed no inclination to do so. Instead he suggested to go out. Mycroft stared at him.  
“Go out to do exactly what?” He demanded to know. Greg shrugged.  
“We could go shopping in Camden? Cinema and dinner? Swimming? The zoo?” Mycroft cringed and finally Greg understood. He was even worse than Sherlock. Sherlock only had never dared to go out alone but he wanted it badly. He told John when they had just moved in together as flatmates. He wanted to do these normal things but never had someone to do them.  
Now Mycroft never even thought of doing these things. He had people doing his shopping and such. What Mycroft certainly understood was that Greg liked to do these things. He wanted to keep Greg happy so he knew he had to try. He always could order his car and sweep him away.  
“Well, if you don’t mind, we could try Camden for a start followed by dinner?” He carefully tried and Greg happily nodded.  
“Just perfect! I need new boots and some t-shirts. I am sure we will find something for you, too, love.” He rubbed his hands and got dressed.  
Mycroft swallowed. He never had been to Camden Market. He had only heard about it or watched the place over CCTV when necessary. It gave him goose bumps when thinking about the crowds there, hundreds of people shoving into your back or side, touching you, being near you. He wondered what to dress into. Certainly not his best suit. Probably it was a no-suit-area. Greg had come up with the word and Mycroft had liked it at once.  
And now he had to climb into the same clothes he had been wearing yesterday. He looked a bit put off and Greg saw his problem.  
“We could stop over at your place so you can dress into something fresh?” He offered and Mycroft visibly relaxed.  
“That would be perfect. If you don't mind?” He looked at him and Greg simply shook his head.  
Mycroft ordered his car around and Greg had the pleasure to see the place he lived in. He was in awe upon entering and kept looking everywhere he could.  
“Come on, Gregory. I'll show you around.” He followed him upstairs and into his bedroom. Mycroft opened a door and it revealed a walk-in wardrobe. He picked a denim and pulled it over his long legs. Greg was watching him. He chose a jumper, too. He felt weird wearing this and Sherlock would have the time of his life if he could have seen him both yesterday and now.  
“You look great, Myc. Come on, let’s go.” He pulled him downstairs and handed him his jacket.  
“But my car …” Greg just shook his head.  
“No car today. Tube it is.” Mycroft closed his eyes.  
“Oh my God …” But he didn’t say so. He just followed Greg down the stairs and bore it. Sitting close to him and riding through the tunnels he whispered:  
“You will so pay for this …” Greg took his hand and squeezed it looking up at him.  
“Can’t wait. Until then I will buy you ice-cream and dinner.” Mycroft looked at him over his long nose and smiled. He concentrated on Gregory moving his thumb over his hand. Then he stared at the different stops and counted them down. He was sweaty. It was hot in here. Other people obviously didn’t own a shower or at least a deodorant. He felt lightly sick when standing up and following Gregory.  
Greg had a look at his partner and saw how miserable he was. He gently took his hand and made him sit down by the waterfront.  
“Hold on just a sec, OK?” Mycroft’s eyes followed him but he quickly disappeared into the crowd. He also was back very quickly carrying both tea and ice-cream. Mycroft reached out for the tea at first. He needed to get rid of the horrid taste in his mouth.  
“Thank you, Gregory.” Greg sat down, too.  
“I am sorry. I know you aren’t used to it and I forced you into riding the tube. Please don’t throw up.” Mycroft looked up and smiled.  
“I won’t since I am controlling my transport.” He had finished the tea and held out his hand for the ice-cream. Greg binned the cup and just watched him. He didn’t look convinced.  
“Listen, we don’t have to do this. I can go alone when you are working late. It’s all fine.” Mycroft just glared at him.  
“You sound like Dr Watson, Gregory. Please don’t. You are my boy-friend and I just have to get used to this. This is part of your life and I want to share it, want to understand you better. So just please, don’t act stupid, OK?” Greg smiled.  
“OK.” They stood and Mycroft licked his lips. Greg handed over a napkin.  
“Here, use this before we proceed. There is ice-cream all over your lips and chin.” Mycroft blushed and quickly cleaned himself up. Then they started to browse the aisles and booths. Soon enough they found stuff Mycroft even liked, for instance some weird artists or candles or some such things. Greg knew what he wanted so he rather quickly bought his boots and t-shirts.  
“I am done. You may run away now. I will follow.” But surprisingly Mycroft shook his head.  
“You haven’t got me compensation.” His voice was very demanding.  
“No, I haven’t, have I?” Greg looked thoughtful. Suddenly he pushed his bags into his lover’s hands.  
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He grinned and vanished. Mycroft sighed and sat down on a brick wall after having bought a snack. Soon enough Gregory returned with a rather small black paper-bag and they exchanged their goods.  
“What is it? Will it be embarrassing for me if I am opening it in public?” Mycroft asked already taking the little parcel into his hands.  
“Not here it won’t.” He sat down by his side and watched him. Mycroft opened the box and found a pair of gleaming black handcuffs. They were heavy and not for games with fluffy fabric on the insides. These were for the real thing.  
Their eyes met and Mycroft smiled; so, did Greg.  
“For tonight …” He roughly whispered. Mycroft licked his lips.  
“Next time we will be buying a set for your ankles.” Now it was Greg’s turn to blush a bit beneath his tan.  
“You will come back with me?” He was indeed surprised.  
“If this is the outcome? I sure will.” Mycroft smirked and stood. He held out his hand.  
“Come on. Let’s have dinner.” Greg knew a nice pub by the water and they even found a booth. Mycroft expectantly looked at Greg who just sighed and ordered drinks at the counter as well as their food. He had no idea what Mycroft liked in a pub and he just got him an ale-pie. Greg actually chose the same all the time. It was the same dish that Sherlock chose when being out with John. So, Greg just assumed Mycroft would like it, as well. They were quite the same, not that he would ever tell them. He might tell John though and have a good laugh about it.  
They finished with a whiskey and Mycroft reached out for Greg’s hand. Greg smiled.  
“I can’t wait to get home.” He said quietly.  
“Does that mean I am allowed to order a cab if not my own car?” He rather imperiously raised a brow.  
“Yes, it does. I am done. And I want to enjoy our time at home with my boy-friend and not look at you getting sick again.” Mycroft downed his drink. So, he had not only noticed; there were also the consequences. He had wondered.  
“I know very well what I want to look at.” He rattled the little bag. Greg swallowed and downed his drink, too. They left rather quickly.

***

John and Sherlock got along very well. Sherlock was keen on experimenting on each other a lot. He had a stamina John could only envy. Of course, he was older than him and couldn’t hold up but Sherlock was also pleased with just touching and probing. When he wanted to measure John’s cock though, he called a halt. Sherlock wasn’t pleased and pouted for two hours by his side.  
And since it was a Saturday John really would have liked to go to the cinema. So, he suggested doing so. Sherlock looked all baffled.  
“Cinema? Now? Why? We have tons of DVDs and Netflix. I also could hack into another … Anyway, why do we have to leave the flat?” John raised a brow but didn’t comment on Sherlock’s mishap regarding the hacking.  
“You are such a lazy sod!” John complained.  
“I am just practical.” Sherlock replied looking up from his slumped position on the sofa. He was only clad in pyjamas and a tee as well as his dressing-gown. He hadn’t even bothered to brush his hair all day.  
“For me, please? I’d like to watch a movie with you in a cinema with a large bucket of popcorn between us.” John was begging and he saw that Sherlock had started considering it after he had mentioned the popcorn. He knew his sweet tooth.  
“And nachos?” He asked and John nodded.  
“And nachos. And coke. Whatever we want.” Sherlock smiled at him and disappeared into the bath. Soon enough John heard the shower and quickly booked the tickets in advance to avoid the discussion with Sherlock in front of the ticket counter. When he was done, he already heard the hair-dryer.  
John walked upstairs to get another pair of denims and an olive jumper. Sherlock loved that one. It was the only one he loved. He ruffled through his hair and managed some cologne. It was enough for him. Downstairs he found Sherlock clad in one of his suits.  
“You know, love, nachos and cheese won’t do your suit any good.” John pointed his finger at him.  
“But I am going out?” John sighed but only quietly.  
“I just don’t want you to harm your beautiful things.” Sherlock turned around and John followed. Finally, Sherlock found a black pair of denims but kept on the shirt and jacket. John nodded.  
“I learned this is a compromise.” Sherlock said very pleased.  
“Yes, it is. Come on then or we will miss something.” Outside Sherlock hailed a cab and John sighed. They rode towards the Vue at Leicester Square and walked only a few steps. Inside Sherlock rubbed his hands and had a closer look at what was on.  
“So, what about that thriller?” He looked at John who fidgeted with his wallet.  
“Oh, you have already purchased our tickets. Did you do that because I have behaved like a child last time?” He put some heavy weight on the word “child” and stared at John.  
“Well, yes.” He shrugged and stared back.  
“Surprise me then.” He turned around and lined up to get their snacks. John started to sweat but picked up their tickets. He had indeed bought tickets for a love-seat. He wondered if it was too much. He had picked the latest Marvel and knew Sherlock would like that. He had said so last time that he liked to watch Thor and Loki fight. Probably he liked the actors but wouldn’t ever admit that. Now John smirked again and met his man by the entrance. Sherlock was carrying popcorn, nachos, chocolate, and coke on a tray he had managed to get from the girl at the counter. John wondered about dry-cleaning again but said nothing.  
“Lead the way, John.” John did exactly that and Sherlock smiled when he saw what they were going to watch. He smiled even more when he looked at the love-seat. He carefully placed the tray on his lap and sat down.  
“I like this.” He took John’s hand and squeezed it. John smiled back at him and relaxed. They arranged themselves on it and Sherlock placed the empty tray against his side of the seat. Then he placed the popcorn into the holder beside the coke. The nachos found their place on his lap. They snuggled close and enjoyed the movie.  
They had a good time and when the lights went on again John laughed out loud looking at Sherlock. He had nacho sauce in his hair and all over his mouth. His shirt was clean though. He handed over some napkins and Sherlock wiped his face. John tried to pull it out of his hair but failed. Few other people looked at them and smiled. The popcorn was gone and so was everything else.  
“This was good!” Sherlock said.  
“It really was, everything was.” Outside Sherlock handed over his jacket.  
“I need the loo.” And gone he was. John was surprised. Normally he never used the loo outside of Baker Street. Probably the coke. John smirked.  
“What’s next?” Sherlock asked when being back and expectantly looked at John.  
“I am not really hungry for dinner now after the snacks.” He rubbed over his stomach.  
“Let’s walk by the riverbank for a while?” Sherlock suggested and it sounded good. The weather was still rather warm and it wasn’t raining. They took the tube over to Embankment and started to walk. Sherlock didn’t argue about the tube. He needed to walk a bit because he felt stuffed like a Christmas goose.  
They crossed the Thames on every bridge and they loved it. They didn’t stop by the London Eye because Sherlock found the place too creepy. John’s eyes soon enough rested on the river-boats offering dinner-cruises. Sherlock saw him looking.  
“We could do that another time. We are not properly dressed for that, John.”  
“Why not? It’s not too fancy? Just look!” He pointed his finger at some people.  
“Yes, perhaps you are right. But that’s why I don’t want to be on board with these people. I want a better boat.”  
“Then you need to charter one, I am afraid, because this is what you get here.” John shrugged and already wrote it off is wish-list.  
“I suppose I could.” Sherlock only murmured the words and John didn’t pick up on it. Sherlock would need to talk to Mycroft.  
They finally ended up at Angelo’s which wasn’t too bad at all. They slumped on their chairs and were happy about Angelo’s caretaking. John loved it here and even Sherlock now and again finished his whole meal. Tonight, he ordered a bottle of wine. John raised a brow.  
“We haven’t properly celebrated, have we?” Sherlock said.  
“It depends on how you celebrate.” John smugly said and grinned when Sherlock blushed.  
John ordered and looked at Sherlock who chose just dessert. John knew he was stuffed with popcorn and nachos so he didn’t argue. They drank some grappa, too, and had a good time.  
Back home Sherlock banged the door close and shoved John against it. He moved his palms under his jumper and rubbed over his skin. John closed his eyes and groaned. His arms came up and he slung them around Sherlock’s slim waist pulling him in. Sherlock’s nose moved through his hair and he kissed his ears.  
“I am so happy …” Sherlock nearly sighed out the words holding on to John.  
“Me, too. Very happy.” John murmured his reply and just held him to his body. And while holding him in this quite tenderly manner John felt like telling Sherlock about his feelings regarding the sex. He knew Sherlock was very inexperienced and he probably thought John always wanted it rough and hard. But he didn’t actually. Right now, this, this was amazing and John loved every second. So, he pressed against Sherlock’s chest until he let go and looked at him.  
“John? What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked while his hands still moved over John’s side.  
“No, everything is perfect. It’s just I need to tell you that I love this, as well. Just as much as I like having you roughly and tied up beneath me. So, it doesn’t have to be rough and kinky all the time. I wanted you to know.” John helplessly shrugged. His ability to speak was a bit limited.  
“I believe we could try a lot. I trust you and hopefully you do trust me, as well.” Sherlock whispered the words into John’s ear.  
“Yes, I do trust you. Whatever you want, we will try. We can always stop.” Sherlock stuck his tongue into John’s ear and his knees buckled.  
“I have done some research on several kinks.” John tensed when hearing these words and he tried to look at him again.  
“That sounds a bit like you are about to do an experiment?” Sherlock smiled.  
“It sort of is an experiment, isn’t it?” He sucked John’s throat hard making him groan.  
“I suppose it is. What do you want me to do?” John dared to ask and finally Sherlock straightened up and palmed his face.  
“I read about kinks. I found out there are a lot of things I haven’t known about but would like to explore with you.” Sherlock’s eyes were intense and glistening with excitement.  
“Such as?” John just asked. Somehow, he was excited, too. Of course, he too had certain fantasies about things he would have liked to try out but never dared. Sherlock was daring and he liked to experiment.  
“I think, you should sit down.” Sherlock pulled him over and into their living-room. He shoved him onto the sofa and got them another bottle of wine. John raised a brow. He wanted him to sit down for this. What was he up to? John swallowed but held the glasses so Sherlock could pour the wine. Then he just pulled his legs under and looked at him. Sherlock put the bottle on the hardwood by the sofa and sat to face John.  
“I spent several hours researching kinks. I found some things I really would like to try with you.” He sipped some wine.  
“Go on and tell me what you would like to do, Sherlock.” John really was curious by now.  
“I saw your eyes after having watched the film when I rushed to the loo. It confirmed my former deductions. I would like to try some Omorashi.” Now he looked up and met John’s wide blown blue eyes.  
“Well, that surprises me … How would you like to explore that? I mean there certainly are different ways, you know?” John felt a bit hot.  
“You have to make me hold it until I can’t anymore. Possibility one is I will wet myself and my clothes right where I stand. Number two means I have to piss into diapers, probably being tied up somehow.” Sherlock’s eyes wandered down to John’s groin and noted the raging hard-on he spotted.  
“And this is just one kink you have researched, am I right?” John swallowed and Sherlock grinned smugly.  
“Well, you once told me I shouldn’t be too greedy. So, let’s try one at a time and see how it works. What do you think?”  
“I remember telling you off, yes. But I agree, let’s try this and see if we are having fun.” John sipped some more.  
“When?” John seriously looked at him.  
“Not tonight. We have been eating too much and drank, as well. Let’s do this when we are not tipsy.” Sherlock looked disappointed for a second but then agreed.  
“That’s fine. I will be drinking a lot of water and perhaps some soda tomorrow. It was your day off, wasn’t it?” He looked all innocent.  
“Yes, it was, my dear.” John drank his wine and closed his eyes in delight. This promised to be really good.  
“John?” Suddenly Sherlock was very close and placed his palm on his thigh. John turned his head and looked up.  
“Yes?” He asked licking his lips.  
“If you feel forced or rushed into the new us, please stop me? I don’t want to spoil this.” He only whispered the words and stroked his leg.  
“Look at me, please?” John said and slowly Sherlock looked up from beneath his lashes.  
“If I would feel that way, I would have told you already. So please feel safe in telling me what you want, let me know about all your wishes. I will always listen to you.” Sherlock relaxed and finished the bottle.  
“That’s good. Let’s go to bed now.” He stood and gone he was into the bath. John shook his head looking after him.


	8. Chapter Eight

Mycroft swirled the heavy cuffs around his long finger while watching Greg undress. He just knew Greg got aroused when he stayed fully dressed.  
The light was dimmed and the curtains and door were closed. Several candles were burning. Greg’s tanned body shone golden. Mycroft was hard, too.  
Greg stood there naked and leaking. He looked at Mycroft expecting an order but nothing happened. Mycroft waited exactly as long as Greg needed to twitch on his feet.  
“Don’t!” He barked and Greg stilled. The voice was dark and demanding and he was able to imagine poor people from foreign governments cowering before him.  
“Up on the bed and on your knees. Hands on your back. Do not heel!” Greg hurried to obey and did quickly what being told. Mycroft took his hands and closed the new cuffs around his wrists. The metal was cold and heavy. Greg’s cock twitched.  
“You like this, slut, don’t you?” Mycroft smugly asked and Greg nodded, not verbally though. He almost fell forward when Mycroft smacked his behind rather hard and it turned red and hot.  
“Ow!” He yelled and got hit again.  
“What did you say, slut?” Mycroft asked and Greg quickly answered.  
“Forgive me, please, for not answering properly. I do like this, my cuffed hands and you giving me names, I really do!” Greg’s voice was rough.  
“What?” Another smack even harder than the ones before.  
“Sir, I really do, Sir!” Mycroft pinched his nipple making him groan and close his eyes. Then he slapped his cock once.  
“Spread your legs, bitch.” Greg did that very quickly. Mycroft’s fingers were around his neck and pressed his head down. His behind came up and he breathed into the mattress.  
“Stay.” Greg stayed and listened what Mycroft was doing. But he was such a sneaky bastard and Greg got surprised when two fingers were shoved rather unceremoniously into him. He loudly groaned and closed his eyes. Mycroft worked him open and soon four fingers touched his insides.  
Mycroft didn’t say a single word and Greg was a panting mess. He pulled out and knelt behind him. He caged him in so Greg knelt between his legs. His long arms were slung around his waist and chest.  
“You are so beautiful, Gregory …” Mycroft whispered roughly and pushed into him. Greg shivered and pressed back but Mycroft started to move quickly and kept changing the tempo until Greg sobbed in his grip. And the moment when he both pinched his nipple and pulled his cock Greg yelled loudly and came. He cried and hung unmoving in the embrace. Mycroft kept going until he came, too. Both men fell forward but Mycroft blocked his fall not to land on Greg’s cuffed hands.  
He carefully slid out but Greg groaned anyway. His nose was clotted and he looked very much debauched. Mycroft pecked a kiss on his shoulder.  
“Gregory, talk to me.” He kissed him some more.  
“Can’t …” The reply was spoken to the pillow and he was so exhausted that he didn’t even open his eyes.  
Mycroft looked at him and then took off the handcuffs. He saw the red and a bit chafed skin of his wrists and bit his lower lips. He pulled him into his arms and held him.  
“I hurt you. I am sorry. Let me disinfect and clean them.” Greg opened one eye.  
“Huh.” He stayed put and Mycroft did exactly that. Greg hissed several times because it burnt and Mycroft tensed.  
“Keep going. I am not such a pussy.” Greg whispered completely relaxed after Mycroft had started.  
“Of course, you are no pussy; whatever that means.” Mycroft muttered and stored the first-aid kit away. He stood by the door.  
“I’ll get us a drink.” And gone he was. Greg raised his brows and carefully sat up against the headrest with some pillows. He stared at the half open door and wondered what was going on inside his big brain. Probably he thought he had hurt him too much and felt bad about it now.  
He returned and placed the bottle of wine with two glasses on his nightstand.  
“Come over here, please?” Greg reached out and Mycroft climbed back into bed. He filled the glasses and handed one over to Greg. Only then he leant against him.  
“Stop worrying, Myc.” Greg sipped the wine.  
“Trying the game of deduction, aren’t you?” Mycroft drank, too.  
“I have a great teacher and am rather talented in observation, you see? Now just stop it, will you?”  
“Sometimes I just can’t stop. It’s like a burning fire on dry wood, just unstoppable. You are so beautiful, so wonderful, when you submit. I …” He shook his head being at a loss for words.  
Greg looked at him over the rim of his glass. He smiled and sipped some more. He reached out and gently took his hand.  
“You make me feel wonderful. You tell me I am beautiful. You have no idea what that means to me. I love what we are doing. And even if I have a bit of chafed skin, it doesn’t matter. If it would ever become too much, I would stop you, believe me.” His thumb stroked over his hand.  
“It’s just, I never had someone. No one ever stayed. I only ever paid. I am not used to it.” He swallowed.  
“I hate to tell you that, you know, but you and your brother are very much alike.” Actually, this made him smile and he looked up.  
“Both of us have never experienced love and affection. Not from our parents or from any lovers. I fled into the ice and became a Government official scaring off other people easily. Sherlock couldn’t cope. When he was younger, he was very emotional. He fled into drugs, wasn’t able to channel his feelings. Later on, we decided feelings weren’t an advantage. I truly believed it until I met you. Sherlock met Dr Watson. Now look at us. Spoiled.”  
“Loved.” Both men smiled and kissed.

***

The next day they slept in. Greg woke and knew it was rather late. He looked to the side and found Mycroft still sleeping. He grinned. Mycroft would be shocked when he woke and looked at his alarm-clock. It still was the weekend and he never slept in. Tedious, he had said. Well, tedious my arse. Greg grinned and carefully rolled out of bed to not wake him.  
He quickly went into the bath and then strolled into the kitchen to prepare a huge Sunday morning breakfast special à la Gregory. He rubbed his hands. While the coffee was brewing, he went into the living-room to retrieve his mobile. There was a text from John.

_“Pub on Monday? Need to talk."  
JW_

The text was from yesterday night. What happened? It couldn’t be too bad because otherwise Sherlock would have arrived here already and complained. He texted his reply.

_“Sure thing. After work at 6 pm. Glad to be of assistance.”  
GL_

“Whom are you texting?” The voice was too close for comfort and Greg jumped.  
“Fuck you, Myc! Don’t do that to me!” Greg turned around looking at him.  
“So?” He asked again.  
“John. He wants to meet up tomorrow after work. He needs to talk.” Greg shrugged.  
“I see.” Mycroft looked thoughtful.  
“You do? Because I don’t.” Greg was clueless.  
“It’s about sex.” Mycroft replied and turned around again. Greg looked at his back and gaped.  
“What?” Greg quickly walked after him.  
“I said it …” Mycroft was interrupted.  
“I heard what you’ve said. You know what I meant.” Greg accusingly looked at him while he filled two mugs with coffee.  
“I deduced so. They are exploring. Sherlock needs to find out what he likes or doesn’t. He surely has done some research and now confronted John with his wishes who needs to share his questions and worries with you, his only suitable companion who knows both Holmes.” He looked smug.  
“Oh, wipe that smugness off your face!” Greg looked a bit worried.  
“You prepared breakfast.” Mycroft suddenly stated. Greg slanted his eyes.  
“And you are stating the obvious.” They stared at each other.  
“It’s just; I am so not used to this domestic bliss. It surprises me every time you do such a thing, a very nice thing, for me.” Mycroft clung to his mug.  
“This is absolutely normal; I can assure you. And I like doing these things for someone. I haven’t been in a situation where I am able to cuddle someone with these things and I missed it. Now there is you.” Greg helplessly shrugged.  
“Yes, now there is me.” Mycroft smiled.  
“Bliss?” Greg suddenly blurted out.  
“Sure. For me it is. You should know, I do appreciate you and your bliss quite a lot.” Mycroft looked serious and Greg just pulled him into his arms and held him tight.

***

The next day Greg really managed to leave work on time and rode over to John’s and his local. He brought the car home first and then took the tube over. He found John already there when he entered the place but he hadn’t ordered yet.  
“John, hey.” John turned around and looked up. A smile came up.  
“Greg, good to see you. What do you want? First one is on me.”  
“The usual. What about something to eat, too?” John quickly nodded and ordered some fish and chips. Greg licked his lips and carried over the pints while John took the baskets stuffed with oily goodness. They found a booth and sat down.  
Greg gave him some time until he just asked:  
“So? What does Sherlock want to do?” He bit into a piece of fish and looked at John who almost choked on a chip. Greg grinned. It must be something then.  
“He did some research regarding our future sex-life. He knows what I like and he checked Google for kinks.” He swallowed and drank.  
“And he found some, I assume?” Greg drank, too.  
“Sure thing he did. So, first thing he dished up was “Omorashi”, the full programme.” Greg just stared for a few seconds.  
“Omorashi. He doesn’t go for simple, does he?” He shook his head. John smiled.  
“No, he doesn’t. I can’t say, I wouldn’t want to try it, but he is so new to all of this. I wanted to be careful with him.” John sighed.  
“You know how he is.” Greg shrugged.  
“That’s exactly why I am worried. He tries so hard to just please me because he is scared, I could leave him if he denies me.” John stuffed his mouth full of chips.  
“The brothers are weird. I have problems with Myc, too. Interaction is difficult, they don’t understand our reactions. So even if we explain everything and then say “no”, they are scared.”  
“So, Mycroft behaves the same?” Greg nodded.  
“Yes, absolutely. He is scared after having done something a bit not good or what he thinks a bit not good.”  
“We are quite the club, aren’t we?” Greg grinned and nodded while he ate some more. They ordered a second pint.  
“So, what do you think I should do?” John asked looking at him.  
“Just do what he wants. He is an adult and can stop you at any time.” Greg replied and John snorted.  
“Adult? Please!” He downed his beer and both men laughed.  
“He will probably try everything to the extreme. He might even hurt himself in the process. Just remember, he was a drug addict. If he wants something, he does everything to get it.” Greg stood to get more beer. John looked at his retreating backside. He knew he was right. He continued talking when Greg returned.  
“He just doesn’t see the danger for himself. Plus, he is so scared I could run away if he doesn’t act after my wishes.” John sighed.  
“Perhaps you should offer to look at some sites online together? See what he is after? Explain the various kinds of whatever it is we are doing? Or you take him into a club?” Greg suggested.  
“Not the Diogenes though …” John visibly shuddered and Greg raised a brow.  
“No, of course not. Since you have told me, it never came up again. I really couldn’t believe it.” John finished his beer.  
“Sherlock was way too young and it was irresponsible of Mycroft to have him brought there. Even though I understood that his father had the saying in that.” Greg drank, too.  
“Yes, he told me after I explained to him why I wanted him at my place. He knew Sherlock had been damaged back then but he had no choice. He told me he took care of him afterwards.” Both men looked thoughtful and got their third round.  
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s the right thing to do. I think he deserves tenderness and love.” John looked at Greg.  
“He sure does and you will provide that. But if he wants to try stuff you should let him experience and take care of him afterwards. There is no other choice. If you deny him, he might go places.” Greg said and shrugged. John paled.  
“Jesus, you really think he would do such an insane thing?” He asked rather agitated.  
“If Sherlock wants something, he does everything to get it. I have just told you. You can be sure of that. No matter how dangerous or insane it is. Mainly, no matter what friends tell him about it. He wants it, he tries to get it.”  
“You do really know him, don’t you?” John asked. Greg smiled a bit sadly.  
“I had to find out the hard way.” He offered no explanation so far. Instead he stood and got the fourth round. John needed more to eat. He brought more chips placing them in the middle.  
“There you are. Well, now listen. I know you want to know about what happened.” John grabbed a handful of crisps and listened.  
“He was living with me for some time, you might have heard about it. He was doing fine for a while, felt much better. Then Myc had to leave and he suffered, he missed him so much. He went mad. I tried to hold him back because I knew what he was up to. He needed drugs, he wanted them, wanted to forget. He made it outside because he hit me rather bad and I fell down bleeding from a head-wound.”  
“What happened then?” John asked being rather shocked about Sherlock’s violence.  
“It took me a bit until I was able to get up and follow him. He had disappeared by then. I used help from Scotland Yard and was backed up by Mycroft. I found him after three weeks and he almost didn’t make it. He was found in a drug den, unconscious and naked. Sick all over, malnourished and dehydrated. And high from various substances. He looked like hell.” Greg swallowed and drank more beer.  
“How old was he?” John asked.  
“Mid-twenties, if I remember it correctly.”  
“What did you do with him?”  
“Mycroft had left instructions, so I knew whom to contact and where to arrange transport to. He was brought into a facility to detox. It wasn’t his first time and he never would have agreed. So, when he woke, he threw a tantrum. They had to secure him to the bed for several days. He spit, bit and kicked. He wouldn’t eat so they had to force-feed him by tube. It was the most horrid thing I ever witnessed.” John drank, too. He wasn’t able to say a word. He was just shocked.  
“He is capable to do anything, John. So, my advice is to give it to him directly and keep control of things.”  
“I see; I really do now.” They stared into each other’s eyes.  
“What’s he doing now?” Greg suddenly asked.  
“Well, I told him I’d go to the pub and meet you for a pint or two. He was pissed because I didn’t spend all the time with him. I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t want anything else, no Molly, no experiments. I left.” John shrugged.  
“And now you are coming back home drunk. He will be very happy.” Greg grinned and John snorted.  
“I am not drunk!” A hiccup came over him and he blushed while Greg laughed out loud.  
“You better be going, John. Just blame it on me. It’s fine.”  
“What will you tell Mycroft? He won’t be very pleased about your state, I believe?” John wondered.  
“What do I care? I can’t help it if he doesn’t go to pubs. I like it and I will keep going.” Greg looked unsure.  
“Have you tried pulling him along?” John asked.  
“Not really.” Greg had to think about it for a second. His brain was getting slow.  
“Tell him he could deduce people but not too loud. I am sure he will be having fun. Also give him alcohol and you will have the best time ever.” John suggested remembering one time he had done it to Sherlock.  
“Have you done such a thing to him?” Greg wanted to know grinning.  
“Well, I once took him as a plus one.” John admitted.  
“I promised him a good time and a favour and he came along.”  
“What kind of thing was it?” Greg was curious.  
“It was a barbecue with old army-mates. One of them was having a baby and threw a baby-party but for men only. At first Sherlock was very shy and wouldn’t talk to anyone. Later, after I had provided lots of alcohol, he took care of the barbecue and improved the heat. My mates were very fond of him until the thing exploded and the fire-brigade had to come and take care of the garden.” John smiled fondly.  
“What happened?” Greg laughed.  
“Sherlock claimed it wasn’t his fault. My mates had the times of their life. So did I. But since then he never came along again even though he admitted he had had a good time.” John shrugged and Greg shook his head.  
“Anyway, I’ll be going, John. Thanks for the wonderful evening. See you!” Greg stood and waved good-bye. John paid a visit to the loo and left, too. He was more than tipsy but made it back to Baker Street.  
He opened the door and entered a dark flat. The light was off, there was no fire and it was rather cold, too.  
“Sherlock?” He carefully called out. There was no reply but the rustling of sheets from behind the door to their bedroom. John smiled. Obviously, he wasn’t welcome, but he wanted to see him and at least tell him good-night. He knew better than to just enter. Instead he brushed his teeth very thorough also changed his clothes. Only then he knocked and entered.  
Sherlock was buried beneath their blankets. He also had the two pillows in use. He was on his side facing the wall. John was able to hear he was awake, but he didn’t acknowledge him. John just sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t touch him.  
“Hey, I am sorry you are pissed. Once and again I just need to meet with other people. And you could have come, too.” The sheets were rustling when he moved his legs a bit, but he didn’t turn around. It took him a bit until he answered.  
“I only would have disturbed you while you were talking about me. I don’t want to be a bother. Plus, I don’t like watching you drinking too much; or Greg in that case.”  
“I am not drunk, Sherlock.”  
“I didn’t say you were, John.” Still he spoke to the wall and John leant into his own hands resting his elbows on his knees.  
“I missed you.” He finally said and waited for a reply.  
“I missed you, too.” Only now he looked over the hem. John smiled.  
“I brushed my teeth. May I join you?” John asked. Sherlock just lifted the blanket and John crept under it. Sherlock once carefully sniffed his skin. Only then he pulled him close and held him tight. He was asleep in no time.

***

Greg arrived at Mycroft's place and had to enter a very dark house. He had been given a key and had already left a bag with a stash of supplies in here because, well, you never knew. There were no lights on and Mycroft obviously had gone to bed. Greg sighed but only quietly. He knew he would be rather pissed but it wasn’t his fault he didn’t like these things.  
He walked upstairs and found the door to their bedroom closed. He took it as a sign and didn’t even try to talk to him. He didn’t even knock. He just turned around and left for the guest-room that had an ensuite bathroom, as well. He remembered it because Mycroft had given him the grand tour. He showered and brushed his teeth. He knew he had brought an old pyjama and a long-sleeved shirt. He dressed into it and pulled up the blanket. He rolled on his side and already missed Mycroft.  
But he wouldn’t tell him sorry for something he wasn’t sorry for and also didn’t want to be sorry for. Mycroft needed to learn how real life was working. Plus, he wasn’t disgustingly drunk and saw no reason to not be together. Now Greg was pissed, too. But he fell asleep after a few minutes of mental raging.

***

Mycroft had heard him coming upstairs. He had listened to his steps on the aisle but then he had turned away again. Since that moment Mycroft wasn’t able to sleep anymore. He wondered why he hadn’t come in. Why did he sleep in the guest-room? Why didn’t he even knock? What had he done wrong? Should he have come along? But they had wanted to talk about his brother’s sex-life. It wasn’t appropriate, being the brother, to talk about such things.  
Mycroft kept waiting but Greg didn’t come to bed. Not to their bed. Mycroft worried his lips and chewed on them. Finally, he decided to get up. He couldn’t stand staying in bed much longer; not without Gregory. He showered and got dressed into his normal work-attire. He brewed fresh coffee and phoned his driver to be picked up. Before he left, he listened upstairs but there was nothing to be heard. With quite a sad expression on his face he lowered his head and picked up his bag for work.  
He spent the day working like a maniac. He arranged several meetings with loads of important people who weren’t so important anymore when he was done with them. Anthea just kept following him around and helped when she could. She never talked back and simply did what being told. She just looked at her boss when he helplessly stared at his mobile almost looking desperate. He never said anything or complained. Anthea never asked but she assumed it had to do with Greg.  
So, when finally, the day was over and Mycroft sat behind his desk at his office she brought him a snack.  
“Please eat this, Sir.” She placed a sandwich on top of his papers and just raised a brow. He knew her and just nodded.  
“Thank you, Anthea. Please inform my driver I’ll be ready in half an hour.” She nodded and already typed on her mobile. She also sent a message to Greg.

_"DI Lestrade, my boss is coming home in about 45 minutes. Please be there, if possible? Talk to him? I’d appreciate it, so would the rest of the world.”  
Anthea_

She hit send and sighed.

***

Greg woke the next morning because his mobile was ringing. It was time to get up and go to work. He rubbed over his forehead and groaned. But it could have been worse. It wasn’t too bad. Slowly he showered and got dressed into a bathrobe. He walked over into their dressing-room, sometimes Greg still couldn’t believe they had such a thing, and picked a suit. The day Mycroft had shown him everything he had made a place for him in there to hang up his suits. It had been a nice thought but Greg felt like even his suits cringed away from his two suits he hung up there. Right now, he was glad he had them here so he didn't have to make a detour home to get properly dressed for work.  
On his way downstairs he had a look into their bedroom because the door was open and found Mycroft gone already. He shook his head.  
In the kitchen he found that he had had coffee, but hadn’t prepared any for Greg.  
“Thanks a lot, my love …” Greg muttered. He didn’t feel like staying and instead just left. He left feeling like an unwanted guest in a lousy bed and breakfast, only without breakfast. He had actually no idea what he felt like. But it was weird and a bit not good, like Sherlock would say.  
He picked something up on his way to the Yard and ate while driving over. He spent hours at his desk working in a frenzy sorting out old folders, old papers and just old everythings. He almost hoped for a new serial killer but nothing of that sort happened.  
After lunch when he stuffed himself with a huge burger and fries, he sent a text to John.

_“How are you? Still at home or cutting open patients?”  
GL_

The answer merely needed a few seconds.

_“Late shift and slept in. Lucky me. Are you two sorted? I am.”  
JW_

Greg read the text and nodded.

_“Haven’t seen him yesterday or this morning or even talked to him.”  
GL_

The next reply took a bit longer.

_“Sherlock says to confront him. He actually says to kick arse.”  
JW_

Greg smiled. He wondered if he should text Mycroft but then he didn’t. He wasn’t a bloody teenager. He would see him tonight and would talk to him very seriously.  
He kept working a bit longer and looked up when his mobile dinged. He also realised that it was dark outside. He had been sitting at his desk longer than intended. He sighed and looked at the display. Then he raised a brow seeing it was a text from Anthea. And the next emotion was fear. Had something happened to Mycroft? Quickly he opened the text and read. And then he grinned. So, he had been affected. Good.  
He checked the time again and left right after. He rode back to his place and arrived there before Mycroft. He got out of his shoes and jacket and poured a drink. Then he just waited.  
Mycroft arrived about half an hour later than expected. He entered the living-room and had already dropped his bag right behind the door. Greg listened to him coming close. Nothing else happened.  
“Please don’t breathe into my neck, Myc. Sit and talk.” Greg pointed his finger to his left. Slowly Mycroft moved around the sofa and sat down.  
“Why did you sleep in the guest-room?” He finally asked but didn’t look at him.  
“Your door was closed. I felt uninvited.” Greg tried to meet his eyes. Mycroft again started to chew on his lips.  
“You didn’t even leave me a coffee.” Greg added.  
“I waited for you. I heard you coming home and hoped you would see me. But you didn’t. You went into the guest-room. I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking what I have done wrong.” Greg just stared at him. The Holmes brothers were so weird. He never would have thought that his actions could have these consequences. He hadn’t meant to cause these feelings in Mycroft. He moved up close.  
“Myc, please look at me.” He slung his arm around his thin frame and pulled him into his arms. Mycroft was a bit tense but finally leant against him. Then his eyes looked out from under ginger lashes.  
“I thought you were pissed because I had come home late and was a bit drunk. Being smelly and all that, you know? I assumed you didn’t want to see me.” They locked eyes.  
“I always want to see you. I wasn’t pissed or angry. I was so worried I did something wrong. I am not good with this.” Greg tenderly kissed him.  
“We are good. Don’t you worry anymore, OK?” Mycroft exhaled and relaxed. Then he took Greg’s drink and downed it.  
“What did you do today? Anthea’s text worried me a little bit.” Mycroft snorted.  
“I let my anger out at work so I wouldn’t do it at home. Anger that was absolutely unnecessary. Stupid.” He got up and poured two drinks.  
“Why didn’t you want to come at the first place? It’s not John, isn’t it?” Greg asked.  
“No, of course not. John Watson is a good man, good for Sherlock. No, I thought it inappropriate to participate in talking about my brother with him not being present.”  
“And you were right, I admit that.” They locked eyes again.  
“So, you will join me tonight?” Mycroft asked hopefully.  
“Where else would I be?” Greg grinned and they kissed.


	9. Chapter Nine

John had finally agreed to try new things with Sherlock. Sherlock had just rubbed his hands and presented him with an excel-file John hated instantly. He stared at it and looked back up.  
“Will you just talk to me, please?” Sherlock swallowed.  
“But I made a list for you to be explicit. I want no misunderstandings. If I talk to you, I might forget something and then everything goes wrong, and …” John interrupted him.  
“Hush, love. I you believe or feel something goes wrong; you will just stop me. Is that understood?” Sherlock was a bit sweaty.  
“Yes, it is. It’s just, I am so excited.” He looked like a child. John just had to smile.  
“You really are adorable. I love you.” Sherlock blushed and John looked at the list again to check on the first entry. It really was the Omorashi thing. He chewed on his bottom lip and thought about what to do, how to make it work and such things.  
“Well, you promised to drink a lot today. Have you done that?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, I have.” John looked up closing the lid.  
“Perfect. Undress now.” He simply gave the order and leant back into the sofa. Clearly Sherlock hadn't expected this but he needed only a few seconds until he did as being told. His clothes ended on his armchair and when he finally stood there in all his naked glory, his cock was already half hard.  
John stood and once walked around him.  
“Well, well.” His hand stayed on his body and he again walked around him never letting go of him. He thought about how to do this, about how to make this good for him. Finally, he moved into action.  
“Kneel, please.” Sherlock plonked on the hardwood and John's cock reacted at once.  
“Hands go on your nape.” He did that, too. John lowered his body and kissed his head.  
“So beautiful for me.” Sherlock quietly moaned. John quickly got his supplies and stood behind Sherlock. He tenderly took his arms down and tied his wrists on his lower back. Next, he took a spreader-bar and John attached it right above his knees. He adjusted it and Sherlock finally knelt with spread legs.  
John knelt in front of him and once pulled his balls. Sherlock had been taught not to complain but he let out a huff that sounded very much not pleased.  
“What was that? And remember, we are right into it.” Sherlock knew what John meant and swallowed.  
“I am sorry, Sir. I did not complain at all, Sir.” John hummed.  
“I thought so.” Next there was a cock-ring over his prick that divided his testicles and got buckled around them. John was able to hear his teeth grinding and his tensed jaw but he didn't say a word.  
“You are doing very, very good, my love.” He praised him some more and placed a collar around his neck to give him something he liked.  
“Thank you, Sir.” He almost only breathed out the words. He had been waiting for this since he had been researching everything. It appealed to him and now it felt so good around his long neck. The moment John had realised what he wanted and needed; he had bought one. It was black leather with a single d-ring at the front. He had spent hours making it soft and bendy.  
John wanted him to concentrate on the task at hand which was the need to piss. So next he walked into the kitchen and got apple-juice he had bought for the occasion. He returned and fisted into Sherlock’s hair pulling it back. He panted already.  
“Drink!” And Sherlock drank. John very slowly made him drink the whole bottle. He didn't want him to suffer from stomach cramps if he drank too quickly. Plus, he hadn't stored the juice inside their fridge. Finally, he blindfolded him and left him right there on his knees. He knew perfectly well that he couldn't heel due to the spreader-bar. Plus, he had lost the ability to see. He soon would feel the urge to let go but wasn't allowed to. He would get hard, but wouldn't be able to come either.  
John knew about how well Sherlock was able to control his transport and he really wondered how long he could stand this. And he would make him piss right where he knelt. Of course, not on Mrs Hudson's hardwood, surely not. Perhaps next time he would move him into the bath. But for now, he just would hold a bottle under his prick or a plastic bucket. For sure he wouldn’t take the blindfold off. But it sure would add to the humiliation because Sherlock would be able to smell the plastic and feel what John was offering him to pee into. He grinned.  
John settled in his armchair with a book. He knew how very well Sherlock’s ears worked, so he would know he was still around and hadn't left. Once and again he let his eyes roam over his body but everything seemed to be just fine.  
It took Sherlock more than two hours to give in, to show his need somehow. He started to shift on his knees which was a clear sign for trying to close his legs. It was pure reflex because the spreader-bar wouldn't allow it.  
“Stop fidgeting.” John told him and he stopped. And then Sherlock whined, he really did. That meant a lot, he had to feel it already. John stood and came closer.  
“What was that?” Sherlock turned his head and tried to rub his face on his denim clad leg, but John wouldn't let him.  
“Please, I need to go! God, it hurts! Just please? I'll do whatever you want ...” He groaned and his cock twitched. John grinned.  
“What I want you to do is hold it and pay me the proper respect. You aren't a baby, are you? I am warning you right now, if you piss on the hardwood, I'll make you pay!” Sherlock hunched his shoulders but couldn't stop.  
“But Sir, I can't hold it anymore! Sir, Please? Please! Sir?” He almost shrieked out the last word and John was rock hard.  
“You are not in control, can't hold back. I need to punish you.” He got a ball-gag and stood behind him.  
“Open up.” Sherlock gave in and opened his mouth. He knew, this wasn't real punishment, it would only enlarge his lust. He was feeling fantastic when John buckled it tight.  
“Good boy. Just a bit more. For me?” Sherlock nodded but was very sweaty already. John kept an eye on him and saw his distended belly. Slowly he moved his finger over it and Sherlock let out noises that almost made John come into his pants. And suddenly he knew what he would do. He collected the needed things and knelt down opposite of Sherlock to be close, just in case he couldn't control his transport the way John was rather convinced he could.

***

Sherlock cursed himself. What had he wished for? This was agony! His bladder was close to bursting and his legs were cramping. He felt like his piss would burst out of his penis which then would behave and twitch around like a fire-hose. He had fantasies about waterfalls and dripping faucets.  
After John had gagged him it became a little bit better because he could bite, lick and suck on the rubber. It helped for a while.  
Finally, he felt John kneel close by and knew he would up the ante now. Well, he had asked for it, hadn't he?  
“Sherlock, I need your complete attention. I will touch you now and you can't let go. Is that understood?” Sherlock nodded. He felt John's hand around his prick and had to bite hard into the ball-gag. Sweat broke out everywhere. His whole body was as tense as a bow-string.  
“Very good, love. So good for me.” John kept praising him and Sherlock felt better. But then it became cold on top of his cock. What was John doing? Why was he lubing his slit? Oh, hadn't he read something about rods? He tried to remember and then there was the cold moving into his cock.  
“Oh, this fits just perfectly fine.” John looked at the rod sticking inside of Sherlock’s dick and attached a nub on top to keep it from disappearing inside completely.  
Sherlock really wondered how on earth he should piss, if his cock was shut off? But he trusted John.  
John started to move the rod. Up and down and so very slowly. It was sweet fucking torture and Sherlock started to drool. The feeling it caused made him wish both to piss and come without delay. He started to shake his head but kept still and kneeling upright.  
“How is this? Do you need to piss already? Or come?” Sherlock nodded and groaned. Drool was running over his chin and had partly dried already.  
God, how John loved that debauched look of Sherlock.  
Sherlock felt John's warm palm on his skin, right on top of his bladder. John surely wouldn't, couldn't, but he did. He lightly pressed and Sherlock shouted. His balls hurt; they were close to bursting. His cock hurt, too. But it also didn't. He started to cry and didn't even notice until snot ran over the ball-gag and his chin.  
John pulled the bucket close and placed it strategically beneath Sherlock’s cock.  
“Can you hold it for me?” John asked and Sherlock desperately shook his head. His shoulders were hunched and his whole body shook. It was time. He had held out for way longer than John had estimated. But of course, he had, he was Sherlock.  
“Listen to me. Are you listening to me?” John pinched his nipple and Sherlock nodded once.  
“Very good. I will pull out the rod now. Do not piss on me!” Sherlock whined when John pulled. He didn't pull it out completely and just couldn't resist in shoving it back inside. And again. Repeatedly. He again fucked his cock torturously slow.  
Sherlock’s body shook and he wondered how long he could stand this. But the feelings inside were wonderful. He felt the rod slipping out and relaxed a bit. He needed all of his self-control and a bit more to not piss like a horse right on top of John.  
“So good for me, so beautiful.” The praise was like honey to Sherlock.  
“You will let go, when I tell you. Not before. Do you hear me?” Sherlock nodded.  
“God, how long would it take him to give that order?” His nose was clogged and breathing was constricted which only enhanced his lust. By now his genitals hurt like fuck, but it was perfectly balanced with lust.  
“Now, relax your body and let go. Go on and pee.” Sherlock’s cock twitched and it hurt but he couldn't. He couldn't let go. He had held it for too long by now and he started to sob desperately. He made noises to show his despair.  
“Hush, it's all fine. I am going to help you. It's OK, hush, love.” John gently pressed his palm on his bladder and rubbed over it. The noises coming from Sherlock made him leak into his pants. It took him about half a minute until Sherlock’s body sagged and he pissed into the bucket. John had to hold him. After he was done, he swayed because he couldn't heel or sit. John wiped his cock clean and quickly disposed of the wet cloth.  
“Now I am going to untie your cock and balls. They look quite angry. Are you angry?” Sherlock slowly shook his head. The moment he had taken the cock-ring off, Sherlock’s dick twitched and he wildly spurted all over the place. Some even reached his chin and John's face who was taken by surprise.  
When Sherlock stopped, he slung his arm around his waist and took away the spreader-bar. Sherlock fell against him and he shook all over. He stretched out his legs moaning.  
“I am in heaven and John is an angel. This has been amazing. And still I need to come.” John was covered in cum but he didn't mind. For a minute he just looked at Sherlock who was still panting. His body was relaxed though. He looked at his cock and it was half hard. He wasn't done yet. John smiled and gently placed him against his body. Sherlock groaned.  
What was John doing? But then he felt him opening his denims and soon enough he pressed their cocks together. Sherlock bucked up yelling and biting into the ball-gag.  
John hadn't come yet; he was able to feel that. Only why? Hadn't he been aroused enough by his display? Had he not been good enough? But he had praised him, several times he had. Sherlock started to throw his head around, he felt the urgent need to see John. Now. See. John. Now.  
John saw his distress and knew what to do. He took off the blindfold and looked into his shiny eyes. He smiled.  
“You are the most wonderful, the most beautiful creature on this world. What you are doing for me. I love you. I.Love.You.” Sherlock screamed and came. John followed a second after. They both toppled to the ground with Sherlock still gagged and bound.  
Sherlock was done. He was emptied and exhausted to the bones. He once bucked up his hips to make John move but John didn't. Sherlock slowly closed his eyes and was gone. His head lolled over the hardwood for a second and then all his moves stopped.  
“Sh'lock?” John barely got it out. He got up slowly and looked at Sherlock who was out cold. John smiled and carefully took off the gag. Sherlock’s jaw cracked but he didn't wake. His lips stayed a bit apart. John gently rolled him on his side and undid the rope around his wrists. There weren't any burn marks or chafed skin. Sherlock hadn't been moving. John was proud of him.  
He felt his pulse and it was just fine. He would just sleep it off. John picked him up and placed him on the sofa to clean him up first before taking him to bed. He washed the cum off of him and covered him with the blanket hanging over the back. He emptied the bucket containing Sherlock's piss into the toilet. And only then he got rid of his soiled clothing smiling broadly. This had been fantastic. He quickly showered and dressed into fresh comfy clothes. He also brought Sherlock’s pyjamas and a long-sleeved tee.  
Sherlock hadn't moved when he returned into their living-room. He was sleeping the sleep of the death. John grinned and carried him over into their bed. Sherlock didn't make a noise when John covered them with the duvet and huddled against him.

***

Sherlock woke in the middle of the night because he needed to piss. Again. He wasn't sure he was able to go, if he could go. But then he realised he was in bed with John. He could feel John and he smiled. Carefully he disentangled from his arms and swayed into the bath. He needed to sit down and only very slowly was able to let go. He realised he was hard again when he stood.  
“Bloody hell!” He cursed and gingerly touched his cock. Then he drank directly from the tap and rinsed his face. He felt he had been cleaned up. He smiled.  
“John ...” Then he grinned. He came up with a way to get rid of his erection. He returned into their bedroom and only then realised it must be late at night. It was dark outside and there were no noises coming in from the outside. His mobile wasn't here and he didn't move to get it. It wasn't important.  
He climbed back into bed and carefully pulled John close to his chest. John was boneless and just let out a small grunt but didn't wake.  
Sherlock started to kiss him and moved his palm over his body. From his hair down his neck and further down his ribs, waist only to rest on his muscular arse. Only then John started to make noises and move. Sherlock started to move against him until he felt his cock harden, too.  
John slowly woke because of Sherlock’s moves against him. Soon he held him tight as well and his moves became faster. Both men groaned loudly into the darkness or into each other's mouths until they came.  
“What was that?” John asked turning his head.  
“That was me.” Sherlock replied. John laughed and got up on his elbow.  
“How are you feeling? Are you hurt?” His finger moved over his chest and nipples.  
“No, but I still needed to come. I am sure you disapprove.” John pressed their mouths together which was answer enough.  
“Not at all. This was the best wake-up-call ever, love.” Sherlock relaxed and soon looked rather pleased again.  
“What we did, I liked it a lot. It was better than I expected, much better. You always know what I need. I only know what I want.” His hand came up to touch the collar around his neck. John had completely forgotten about it, hadn't taken it off.  
“Oh, I am so sorry, love. I left it on. Come here, I'll take it off.” He reached out but Sherlock stopped him.  
“No, please leave it on. I like it, like the feeling. It makes me yours. I can feel it and it helps me believe.” Sherlock quietly said and John gently stroked over his cheekbone. He looked a bit sad though.  
“I might do something wrong, if you don't know that without the collar.” He only whispered the words and let go. He turned away and moved back under the blanket. Sherlock could just stare at him.  
“John?” His voice sounded small.  
“We will talk tomorrow. Go to sleep, Sherlock.” John said facing away and almost completely hidden beneath the blanket. Sherlock kept looking at him for a minute but nothing more was said.  
Tears welled up but he suppressed both them and the noises he wanted to make. He wanted to sob and wail, whimper, and cry. Instead he waited for John to fall asleep and only then unbuckled the collar. He dropped it on the night-stand and left the bedroom. He dressed into the clothes that were still in the living-room, got into his shoes, coat, and scarf and finally left 221B.  
He wandered for hours. He forgot his wallet and his mobile. He ended up in front of his brother's door and rang the bell. It took a while until his butler opened the door for him.  
“Mr Holmes, the younger. Come on in, boy, you look horrid.” The old man pulled him inside and took his coat. Sherlock smiled at him. He had always liked him. He knew him for ages because he had been working for his father when he came into this world and happily had left with Mycroft when he had moved out.  
Now he ushered him into the kitchen and made him sit down. A minute later there was a mug with hot cocoa and cream on top as well as some cookies.  
“There you are.” He sat down and looked at him. Sherlock looked back eating the cream off the hot fluid.  
“Thank you.” He said the words slowly and enjoyed the treat.  
“What happened?” The old man asked sitting there in his old dressing-gown with a pair of even older slippers.  
“I made a mistake. I said something wrong, not very nice, to my boyfriend and he turned away from me.” He sighed.  
“It can't be too bad, can it? I mean he stayed, didn't he? It was you who left him. What do you think he will feel when waking up alone?” Sherlock angrily crunched on a cookie.  
“It was he who said we would be talking tomorrow. Then he went to sleep. He doesn't expect me to be available.”  
“Oh dear. You and your brother are so alike.” He shook his head.  
“Shut up.” Sherlock said but a huge smile was on his face.  
“What's going on here?” Suddenly there was Mycroft and the butler wanted to get up. Mycroft stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  
“Stay seated, Steven, please? Just answer my question. I was short of alarming security.” Steven looked at Sherlock.  
“Steven opened your door for me, Mycroft. I rang the bell and woke you. I am sorry.” Mycroft shook his head.  
“Yes, I am well aware of all that. But why did you ring my bell in the middle of the night? What happened at Baker Street?” He asked being a bit worried about the good Dr Watson. And Sherlock just told him. He had no secrets before good old Steven who had heard a lot in the past.  
After Sherlock had stopped speaking, he expectantly looked at his older sibling but Mycroft looked as clueless as he was. Now both men looked at Steven for advice.  
“You really don't know, do you? Oh boys, nothing had changed. Nothing.” Steven sighed. And then he explained.  
“Oh!” Sherlock said finally understanding what John had meant. Mycroft thoughtfully nodded. Sherlock stood.  
“I think I might better go and be back at Baker Street before John wakes.” He said donning his coat again.  
“Why is John texting me in the fucking middle of the night demanding to know of Sherlock's whereabouts?” Suddenly there was Greg in the kitchen, too.  
“Because I left my collar on the night-stand and left 221B.” Sherlock replied. Greg rubbed his tired eyes.  
“Why did you run away?” Greg asked already typing a text to John.  
“I said something a bit not good to John. I didn't think of the outcome of my words.” Sherlock said.  
“The usual then. Anyway, I texted John you are on your way back. Please leave now. Mycroft, come back upstairs. Steven, thanks a lot for helping.” Greg smiled and pulled Mycroft out of the kitchen. Sherlock looked at Steven.  
“Thanks for the cocoa, Steven. You are the best.” The old man smiled and stood, too.  
“Don't tell your boy-friend, Sherlock.” Sherlock chuckled and left.

***

On his way back he took a cab. When he stepped on the curb at Baker Street he looked up and saw that the lights were on in the living-room. John was awake and waiting for him. He swallowed. Sherlock assumed John was very angry with him. But he had to face him. Up there with John was his home. He loved John, but he had managed to hurt him. Again.  
Finally, he opened the door and climbed up the stairs. Upstairs the door stood a bit ajar and Sherlock pushed it open. John quickly turned around and hurried up to him.  
“Sherlock, why did you leave in the middle of the night? I was so worried!” He spread his arms expecting Sherlock to come into his embrace. Slowly Sherlock walked up not looking into his eyes. Instead he let himself be hugged to his muscular chest and carefully placed his palms on John's back.  
“I said it wrong. I am sorry. I thought, you didn't want me close, that's why I left. I needed to talk to someone and the only other persons I trust are my brother and Greg. Well, he is there by default now. But anyway, I ...” Sherlock got interrupted.  
“You scared me to death, do you know that? I only meant to show you how wrong I thought I was. I thought I haven't told you enough how much you mean to me. The moment you said, you needed the collar to know for sure it pierced my heart. I love you so much, Sherlock, so much. And I really don't want the collar around you all the time. It's for bed, for play and I don't want it in our daily life. Do you?” John asked.  
“Not anymore, John. No. I got it all wrong but now we are good. And I love you, too. A lot.”


End file.
